Out on Strikes
by atpoteat
Summary: AU,yaoi: The gundam pilots are rookie phenoms for the Yankees and Red Sox...
1. Chapter 1

Don't own, don't sue.

Warnings: yaoi, language, mild violence later on. Bit o'angst.

Out on Strikes: 1?

March 5 MLB. com:

**Spring Has Arrived**, by Quatre Winner

Tomorrow is the first spring training game at Legends Field and all the buzz is around the Yankees newest rookie, Heero Yuy. Acquired from the Reds on waivers last season, Yuy made quite the impression during the regular season's final week.

On September 21st the rookie, called up from Columbus when Jorge Posada broke his leg in a freak home plate collision, Yuy played the remainder of the regular season and hit .427 in eight games, with three home runs and 15 RBIs.

Yankees' GM Brian Cashman said of Yuy's role: "the kid's got loads of talent and Posada's been eager to help the him come along behind the plate. He can hit already and his defense is, well, I think we all remember what happened when Manny Ramirez hit that foul ball last year. He's earned a spot on the team – he isn't here to tryout, he's here to get settled. I expect he and Posada will split time behind the plate this season and next year…who knows. Posada's already announced that he plans to retire."

Yuy isn't the only new addition to the Yankees. Fire-baller Wufei Chang was acquired from the White Sox. Last year's AL Rookie of the Year and Cy Young contestant, Chang will bring youth to a team of veterans – as well as a nearly unhittable 4-seam fastball.

Of course, the Yankees will be playing their arch-rival, the Boston Red Sox, who have a few new names on the roster as well. Most notable is Duo Maxwell who made a splash during the college World Series two years ago when he hit a game-winning grand slam for Carolina. Last year he and Heero Yuy battled for the AAA batting title and finished tied at .398 each. Maxwell will take over center field, which has been passed around several players since Johnny Damon signed with the Yankees three years ago. Also joining the Sox is Trowa Barton, the side-arming phenom who managed to pitch a perfect game last year in AA.

After disappointing finishes for both teams these last four years fans are eager to see the rivalry extend into a new generation of players. With the snow finally melted, it's time to play some ball.

It was hot and it was March. Even though it was Florida, there was still no excuse for the sweltering misery that suffocated the field.

Duo Maxwell wiped the sweat out of his eyes for the twelfth time is as many minutes.

"I hate Florida. Thank God I'm not playin' for the D-Rays," he mumbled to himself.

"Now batting, Heero Yuy."

Duo grinned as the name of his rival came over the PA system.

"Alright, time to make somebody cry."

He punched his glove and stood on his toes. Duo knew that it wasn't normal to _want_ the opposing batter to hit the ball, but as this was spring training and it was Heero "Death Glare" Yuy, Duo didn't really care. He wanted the guy to hit a nice, long almost-home-run-if-I-wasn't-there-to-rob-you ball to center field. Or anywhere in the outfield – Duo could easily outrun Manny or Nixon to get to the ball.

The sharp crack of Yuy's bat was all the warning Duo had but it was enough. He was instantly off, cleats digging into the soft earth as he sprinted to the wall. He buried one foot in the mat and pushed himself up, catching the ball in the web of his glove and securing it just before he fell backwards onto the warning track.

The fans cheered and even from two hundred feet away Duo could feel the heat of Yuy's glare.

He waved at the catcher and then tossed the ball into the stands before sprinting off the field.

Robbing a home run was great, Duo reflected as he walked to the plate, but rubbing it in was even better.

"Sorry about earlier, buddy, you know how it goes," Duo said as he took a practice swing.

Yuy glared at him but didn't say anything, just settled the catcher's mask over his face and dropped into a crouch.

Duo cleared some dirt on the left side of the plate and adopted his batting stance, cocking the bat high over his shoulder and gripping it tightly.

Out of the corner of his eye Duo could see Yuy giving the signal and tried to ignore the fingers – there was no way he could steal the signs and the sight was breaking his focus. Duo made himself focus of the pitcher -Chang – and held his breath as the Chinese man wound up.

The ball came flying at him, way inside. Way, way, _way_ inside –

Duo grunted as the ball hit him on the leg.

"Son ova –"

"Take your base!" The ump shouted, gesturing to first.

Duo threw his bat towards the dugout and glared at Yuy, who shrugged.

"It's March – his control is still a little off," the catcher explained.

"Like hell it is. That was intentional, you asshole," Duo called over his shoulder as he jogged to first.

Duo took a sizeable lead off of first as Cora came up to bat. Chang threw the ball over to first, but Duo managed to slide back in.

As soon as Chang went into his wind-up though, Duo was off for second, hair flying behind him as he sprinted at full speed.

The throw reached Jeter just as Duo slid into the bag and the ump called him safe. As Duo stood and brushed dirt from his legs he saw Yuy glaring at him across the infield. Duo smiled back.

The game ended in a 6-5 Yankees victory, but the atmosphere in the Red Sox clubhouse was cheerful enough. Barton had pitched three perfect innings of relief and Duo had hit a home run – in addition to his stolen base and a single later in the game.

As Duo sat on the bench in front of his locker, surrounded by reporters and cameras, he couldn't help but laugh. So this was the Big Leagues.

_I could get used to this_, he thought to himself.

"Duo! Duo! How did it feel to rob Heero Yuy of a home run?"

"Even better than it felt when I hit my own," Duo responded, rubbing a towel through his still wet hair. The gesture caught the attention of another reporter.

"Tell us a little about your hair, Duo. Trying to emulate Johnny Damon?"

"No offense to Damon, but I've been working on this braid since I was in diapers. Still, I guess the hair goes hand in hand with center field, huh?"

"Duo, you and Yuy exchanged some words as you left the field and it didn't look too friendly. Anything between you two?"

Duo shrugged. "Just friendly competition, you know? We competed in college, the minors, and now here."

"There seemed to be a few pitches aimed at your head this afternoon, was that just part of the friendly competition too?"

"Hey, guys, I'm the Red Sox – he's the Yankees. It's as friendly as it can get. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to take my grandmother out to dinner." Duo stood, signaling an end to the interview. One reporter, however, hung back.

Duo grinned as he recognized the blonde.

"Quatre! Hey buddy, I saw your article on smaller blonde shrugged apologetically.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mention you first!"

"It's no big – at least you mentioned me. The way you were going on, and on about Mr. Death Glare I was starting to wonder, though…"

"Oh come on, Duo, he's a great player."

"Yeah, and he's an asshole. New York can have him."

"He gives interviews like Jeter too – I think they make all Yankees go to some kind of interview school where they train them to be blocks of ice."

"Naw, Yuy came that way I think. So… I saw you checking out Mr. Perfect Game earlier." Duo waggled his eyebrows at Quatre, who blushed and looked around anxiously.

"Shut up, Duo! And I wasn't checking him out, I was merely examining his, um, physical condition."

"Right – and when his towel dropped and you looked at his dick? Explain to me how you're going to work that "condition" into your next article."

Quatre's face turned even redder and he scratched his ear.

Duo laughed at his friend's distress.

"Hey, lemme change and get out of here – you want to meet at that crab place on the beach at, say, five-ish?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. Hey, do you think he'd want to –"

"Q, you are so pathetic. I'll ask him, okay? But he's exchanged maybe two words with me these last two weeks and they were "Go away". But I'll try."

"Thanks! See you in an hour!"

Quatre took off, passing by Barton's locker on his way, and Duo shook his head.

"Hey, you played well today kid."

Duo looked up at Jason Varitek. The big catcher was grinning down at him and Duo, always a loudmouth with a smart comeback, was caught speechless.

His mouth opened a few times but nothing came out. Varitek laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Keep it up, huh?"

Duo nodded eagerly, aware that he looked like a crazy parrot as he did so.

Varitek laughed again and headed off.

"Duo, you are such an idiot," he muttered to himself as he pulled on a t-shirt and khaki shorts.

He stopped by Barton's locker as he left the clubhouse. The rookie pitcher was staring into his glove as if it held some secret. Or as if it was talking to him.

"Um… Trowa?"

The pitcher didn't look up or acknowledge Duo in any way.

"Er…Trowa? Barton? Mr. Pefect –"

"Don't call me that. It was one game and it was the minors."

He still hadn't looked up.

"Right. I'll make a note of that. So, um, once you're done conferencing with your glove, want to grab a bite to eat? You know, get to know each other? They tell me the greenies get to share a room on the road, which I figure means they'll put us together, so I was just thinking that we go ahead and get the awkward introduction phase out of the way and just –"

"Duo, we already share a room here – at that place they call a hotel? Where we've been staying for the past two weeks?"

"Oh, right. Oh – hey, I knew you looked familiar!"

Either Barton didn't laugh much or English wasn't his first language. The pitcher merely raised an eyebrow at Duo.

"So… food? Today?"

Barton shrugged – which could have meant anything from "go away, asshole" to "yes, I'll come but only after we've participated in the ritual first-loss orgy in the showers."

"Right. Need a ride or anything?"

Barton raised an eyebrow.

"You got a rental car for three hours? We do head back to Ft. Myers tonight, you know."

"No, I didn't get a rental. I was referring to a taxi – that thing you pay for and other people drive it for you? Usually they're yellow."

"Give me five minutes. I'll meet you out front."

"Ok, cool." Surprised that Barton had caved so easily, Duo took the steps two at a time as he left the clubhouse and made his way to the front of the stadium.

A small mob of fans remained, baseballs and pens clutched in their hands as they waited for the players to emerge.

By this time most of the players had already escaped, but Duo noticed a few Yankees were still signing autographs – including Derek Jeter and Johnny Damon. Damon saw him and raised a hand in what could have been a wave.

Duo walked over to the Yankees center fielder.

"Nice hair," Damon said as he finished signing a baseball for some girl with pig-tails and a blue NY painted on her face.

"Yours was getting pretty nice, too, before you went over to the Dark Side."

Damon rolled his eyes at that.

"Right, well, I'm sure some rookie'll be saying the same thing to you when the time comes."

"No way, man, I wanna play for Boston till they have to cart me off the field in a wheel-chair."

"So did I – it isn't always about what you want, though. Have a good season."

"Thanks, you too. Well, I mean, you know – don't win too many games or anything."

Damon chuckled and moved through the crowd, shaking hands and signing autographs as he made his way to his car.

Duo suddenly found himself alone in a sea of navy, each fan glaring or hissing at him.

"Why'd you have to go and rob Yuy, huh? What's he ever done to you?" A boy, who was maybe all of twelve, demanded.

Duo looked up and saw Damon, who was looking at him and shaking his head as he laughed.

_I was set up_. Duo made his way through enemy territory and towards the curb, narrowly avoiding a fistfight with a seven year old in the process.

Duo and Trowa settled into a booth by the window that overlooked the Bay.

"Ever been here?" Duo asked Trowa. The pitcher shook his head.

"They've got great crab legs – plus they keep all their beer at 30 degrees."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"See, 34 degrees is the optimal beer temperature – 40 degrees is okay, but a little warm. Here they keep it at 30 so even in the summertime, by the time it gets to your mouth, it's still 34 degrees."

"Oh no, is he giving you the beer rundown?" It was Quatre, just arrived and looking very dapper in a pink button-up and jeans.

Duo mouthed, _Is this a date?_

Quatre glared at him and shoved Duo further into the booth so he could slide in.

"I'm Quatre Winner." The blonde held a hand over the table, which Barton shook apprehensively.

"Trowa Barton. Are you allowed to do this?"

"Eat? Yes, most of the time anyway."

"No, are you allowed to eat with _us_?"

Duo snorted.

"Q man eats with whoever he wants. You know that he was offered a position as a speech writer for the President? Well, he turned it down to write for MLB – which is the dumbest idea in the history of the world. Well, second dumbest, letting Pedro go was probably the first. No, selling Ruth to the Yankees was the dumbest, then Pedro, then adopting the DH rule, _then_ Q going to work for MLB. He sort of makes his own rules – plus he's got an in with the soon-to-be rookie of the year, so they kinda let him run free."

Trowa looked a bit shell-shocked by the time Duo was done.

Quatre laughed.

"He does this a lot, you'll have to get used to him – or get used to tuning him out. It works best for me if I try to remember all of the outs recorded in the 2004 World Series – that way I can look confused, angry, and happy at the appropriate places."

Duo glared even as Trowa smiled slightly.

"What! You smile for him but all I get is an eyebrow raise?"

Trowa shrugged. "He's obviously more intelligent than you, he should get some kind of reward."

Duo gaped even as Quatre glowed from the praise.

Duo turned towards his blonde friend, intent on giving him a hard time, when he caught sight of his favorite person in the whole world entering the restaurant.

"Don't look now, but this place just got a bit more crowded," Duo muttered.

Quatre's head immediately snapped around as he zeroed in on the newcomers. Trowa was more stealthy, but he too turned to see who Duo was referring to.

Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang were being led by a waitress towards their booth.

Duo tensed as Yuy caught sight of him.

"I see you bring your pet out to eat with you," Duo said, indicating Chang with a casual wave of his hand. Chang instantly started towards him but Yuy held the Chinese man back.

"I see you brought your fan club. Explains why I have to read your name so often." Yuy glanced over at Quatre and raised an eyebrow. Quatre frowned.

Duo started to talk, but Quatre put a hand on his arm to silence him.

"Duo and I went to school together. So, yeah, we hang out. And yeah, I write for MLB – but I think you'll find that I, of all the sportswriters this off-season, wrote less about him than anyone else. And that's because I have to maintain my professionalism when I'm on the job. But off the job he's worth ten of you any day, so just try and make a snide comment like that again and pray that I'm able to maintain my professionalism – because my column doesn't have to be approved before it goes online."

Yuy's glare became even colder.

"That said, good game today. Both of you. It's nice to see that the Yankees have finally realized you don't have to have an AARP card to be able to play for them. Now, it was great talking to you, but I think our waitress is waiting to take our order."

Yuy and Chang stood for a moment, gaping at Quatre, before they sat down in the booth behind Trowa. Yuy continued to glare at Duo, who couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at the catcher.

"That was… a bit foolish, don't you think?" Trowa whispered after their second round of beers arrived several minutes later.

Quatre leaned towards the center of the table and whispered back, "maybe, but I like to live dangerously."

Duo snorted into his beer.

"Seriously? This coming from you? The guy who wouldn't go to the Olympics with me in China because of the avian flu?"

"It was a valid concern, Duo."

"Yeah, sure. Ah… my victims have arrived!" Duo rubbed his hands together as the server set a platter full of glistening red crab legs in front of him.

Trowa frowned but Quatre didn't bother to hide his disgust.

"Duo, you do realize that the farming practices for crabs are one of the most un –"

"Can it, Greenpeace. I can still hear them cry as they touch the boiling water and I want to savor the moment."

"Duo, you are sick."

"Oh yeah – this one prayed to Jesus, too," Duo held up an impressively large crab claw and split it open, splattering Quatre's face with crab juice.

"You jerk!" The blonde cried.

Across from the Barton laughed, a deep, rich sound that made both of his companions stare at him.

He noticed them looking at immediately stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing," they answered in unison.

March 15th early to call? By Quatre Winner

After eight games it seems too early to be making predictions for the regular season, but if what we've already seen is any indication, the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry is about to be taken to a new level.

The old grudges are back just as strong as ever – A-Rod and Varitek have already had a shouting match. But the newest generation of players seem eager to join in as well.

Yesterday's game was the second meeting between the teams this spring and everything was going well until the third inning.

Chang and Yuy were once again the Yankees battery and, once again, Chang sent Duo Maxwell to first base courtesy of a bruise on his rib cage. But this time Trowa Barton joined in the festivities – delivering retaliation in the form of a wicked curveball that forced Yuy to drop flat to avoid having his head removed.

After a warning from the umpire the pitchers settled down. Until Yuy hit a two-run homer in the 7th and Maxwell a three-RBI double half an inning later.The game was a Red Sox victory, 4-3, but the fans weren't too concerned with who won by the time it was over.

These four rookies have already developed a legion of fans and analysts have predicted that the AL Cy Young and MVP races have already started.

On April 30th the Yankees will play their home opener against the Red Sox, and fans of both teams are awaiting the regular season with baited breath.

tbc

Notes:

Some explanations: Batting average - the number of hits a player averages over his at-bats. So a .427 is like getting 9 hits every 20 at bats; it is also very good. But hey... he's Heero.

RBIs: Runs batted in. This means that the player is scoring other runners through hits, sac flies, etc.

AL: American League. There are two leagues in baseball, the other being the National League. I've put all the g-boys in the AL, though, and we won't be hearing from the NL until the World Series...

MVP: Most Valuable Player

CY YOUNG: this is the MVP for pitchers. Although it is possible, and really rare, for a pitcher to get the MVP.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For some reason I have my dates extremely off. The regular season usually starts at the beginning of April… but let's just pretend, shall we?

Also, for those of you who don't obsess about baseball, here's some useful terminology:

RBI: runs batted in. Basically, if you hit a solo home run, it's one RBI. If you hit a double and score someone else it's also one RBI.

AVG. : batting average. An average MLB player will hit about .265ish – or 26 out of every 100 at bats. A really good player, like… Derek Jeter… will hit at least .300 to .340ish. No one's hit .400 (or 40 out of a 100) since Ted Williams back in the day. And, keep in mind, a player's AVG. fluctuates over 160-odd games a season. He might hit .300 one game and .250 the next… giving him a probable .275 AVG.

Don't own, don't sue.

Warnings: Warnings: yaoi, language, mild violence later on. Bit o'angst. And (gasp!) 1x2x1 and 3x4x3!!!

Out on Strikes 2/?

**April 27th Play Ball!** By Quatre Winner

After an exciting spring training, the day that all Yankees fans have been waiting for has arrived: the home opener will get underway in the Bronx in less than 72 hours and already the media frenzy has begun.

Yesterday marked the end of spring training, with a Yankees loss to the White Sox and a Red Sox victory over the Orioles.

It promises to be an interesting year ahead: not only have the Yankees and Red Sox experienced a surge of energy due to their new players, but other teams have made great starts this season also.

The Rangers are fielding the same club that won 100 games last year except for a new addition: left-hander Zechs Marquise will be closing for the Texas team after being traded from the Mariners for first baseman Treize Khushrenada. Khushrenada will be at the heart of a powerful Mariners lineup featuring Ichiro and Jojimo as well.

The trade rumors around A-Rod have once again fizzled out. Brian Cashman announced on Monday that he has made no attempt to trade Rodriguez, who is on the last year of his $252 million dollar contract, and reminded the press that Rodriguez has a no-trade clause as well. The Yankees seem to have settled their pitching concerns without trading any players by moving Wufei Chang into the role of closer – recently vacated by Mariano Rivera – after Kyle Farnesworth continued to remain shaky in the role.

Spring Training Re-Cap:

Heero Yuy led the AL with a .421 batting average. Duo Maxwell finished just behind the Yankee, with a .418 average but led the league in homers with 10. Maxwell also led the league with 10 stolen bases while Yuy picked up 18 RBIs.

Trowa Barton for the Red Sox picked up four Ws while Yankees' pitcher Wufei Chang won three of his decisions for the Bombers.

Both teams are being led by their young new players and it seems like a trend across the league. Each of the twenty-six clubs in the majors features at least one rookie in a starting position this season. Hopefully this will renew fan interest in the sport – which saw a sharp decline two years ago when the Clemens steroid scandal came to light.

* * *

The roar from the fans was the most exciting and terrifying sound Heero Yuy had ever experienced. Last season it hadn't been like this: the Yankees were on their way to a third place finish and everyone knew it. But now it was a whole new season and the fans were eager to see last year erased.

He stood on the first base line with the rest of the Yankees, hand over his heart as they sang the Star Spangled Banner.

Last year he had been the rookie that was temporary until Posada healed – but after Posada announced his intentions to retire Heero became the focus of spring training, especially after Posada had limped his way through three games and allowed three passed balls. So, until further notice from manager Don Mattingly, the job belonged to Heero.

Heero, who had dreamt of being a Yankee for as long as he could remember. Heero, who was standing between Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez and being managed by Donnie Baseball. It was beyond dreamlike – beyond heaven, even. The only thing that marred the occasion was the bigmouth centerfielder playing for the opposing team.

Duo Maxwell had been a pain in the butt since their teams played against each other in the college World Series two years ago and if spring training was any indication, he was going to remain a pain until he died.As the players jogged off the field Heero's eyes locked with Duo's. The braided man gave him a jaunty wave before pointing to right field and miming swinging the bat.

Heero rolled his eyes. The only thing more annoying about Duo's self-confidence was the fact that it was well-earned. If it was anyone else putting up those kinds of numbers Heero would have respected him. But Duo's carefree attitude grated against his own ethic: baseball was a game, yes, but Heero was paid fairly well to make sure he played it as perfect as humanly possible. Duo seemed to think that he was paid to amuse the fans and generally tried to turn games into circuses.

Well, spring training was over and it was time to get down to the serious business of kicking some Red Sox ass.

"Nice night for a Yankee loss," Duo said conversationally as he stepped up to the plate for the first at-bat of the game.

Heero didn't even look at him, but gave Mike Mussina the signal for an outside fastball. Moose nodded and went into his wind-up.

As Heero expected, Duo chased the ball and missed. He had read through the scouting reports closely and noticed that most of the time, pitchers tried to throw inside on Maxwell. He didn't see that many balls on the outside of the plate, mostly because those he did see he immediately hit out of the park. Then again, he hadn't ever had Moose pitch outside to him. Heero had to admit that, as much as he thought of Wufei, Moose was a genius on the mound.

Duo swore under his breath and got back into his stance.

He managed to foul off the next two pitches and took a chop at the third, sending the ball down the third base line and pulled into second base.

Heero ignored him as Alex Cora came to the plate – there was no way he would be stupid enough to try and steal third base on Mussina – and Cora was quickly struck out.

And then, just as David Ortiz settled in beside the plate and Moose went into his wind-up Duo took off for third.

The ball had barely landed in his glove before Heero threw it to Rodriguez. Duo collided with the big man as he slid feet-first onto the bag and the ball popped loose before Rodriguez could apply the tag.

_Damnit_. Heero scowled – this was yet another sign that Duo didn't take the game seriously. With David Ortiz at bat, why steal third? Because he wanted to show off and because he was stupid.

By the time Matsui could get to the ball and throw it home Duo was exchanging high-fives with David Ortiz.

Heero forced himself to ignore the braided man, and settled back down behind the plate. Moose retired Ortiz and then Manny Ramirez.

Walking back to the dugout Heero caught sight of his mother in the stands behind home plate. She waved at him, smiling so broadly her face looked ready to split in-two. Heero raised a hand in return, noticing that his father was absent.

_Probably working_, Heero thought. His father had made it clear that he thought Heero was wasting his life by playing a child's game for a living and had only come to one game last year. Heero imagined this year would be the same – unless the Yankees played in the World Series, in which case his father would likely come to all the home games and brag about his son, the "famous" ball-player.

Trowa Barton was pitching for the Sox and he managed to retire the top of the Yankees order without allowing a baserunner. All too soon, though, Moose retired the Sox and Heero was up to bat against the rookie.

Barton was intimidating on the mound, his tall frame allowing him to peer down at the batters and his face masked by his hair. Heero respected the pitcher who, aside from his friendship with Maxwell, seemed serious about the game.

He respected him even more after grounding out to first.

It was the ninth-inning, game still at Sox 1, Yankees 0 and Maxwell was up to bat again.

"Yanno, we could always just start a fight…get thrown out of the game and go grab a beer," Duo muttered to Heero.

Heero was momentarily stunned – had Duo just suggested intentionally starting a fight so they two of them could "hang out"? He heard the umpire chuckle and realized the crack had been for his benefit, and not Heero's.

Still, the imagine of he and Maxwell drinking at a bar was disturbing – especially since he could picture himself having a good time with his rival.

On the mound Wufei gestured at Heero to hurry up.

Dropping into his crouch, Heero gestured for an inside fastball, hoping that Duo would be a little twitchy after getting nailed by Wufei's pitches during spring training.

No such luck. Duo leaned into the plate, catching the ball just on the inside of his stomach. He dutifully trotted down to first after shooting Heero a dirty look.

Wufei then retired Cora (amazingly Duo didn't try and steal second) and then Ortiz was up.

Five minutes later Ortiz was circling the bases after hitting a home run and Maxwell was touching the plate on the way to the dugout.

He grinned at Heero.

"You've still got tomorrow, right?"

"We've still got three outs," Heero corrected him angrily.

Duo shrugged.

"Not with Tro on the mound. You might as well head to the showers now."

Heero took a step towards Duo out of sheer frustration with the man and Duo took a step towards him.

"So how 'bout that beer, later? You might need some help drowning out your sorrows. Or is that why your Mom's here?" Duo nodded towards the stands.

"You're a stain, Maxwell," Heero said in reply.

Duo snorted.

"Yeah, soiling your pretty pinstripes, huh?" With that parting shot Duo trotted off the field and into the visitor's dugout, where he and Ortiz were greeted with high-fives.

Three outs later and the Yankees had suffered their first defeat of the season. The mood in the clubhouse was somber – after all, they were all here to win – but Heero overheard several players making plans to go out and grab a bite to eat.

Heero was surprised to see a small crowd of reporters at his locker, including Quatre Winner.

"First loss of the season, huh?" One asked.

Heero blinked in response. _Was that really a question?_

"How'd it feel?" Another prompted.

"Tough," Heero replied.

"You grounded out twice tonight and struck out once."

Heero raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think Trowa Barton's shutout of the Yankees foreshadows your season?"

Heero was surprised the reporter even knew such a big word.

"No. I think it was the first game and it was a tough loss. Tomorrow we'll go back out there and give it our best." Heero stood and turned away.

The reporters instantly flocked to Derek Jeter, who had just entered.

Winner lagged behind.

"You can't kill them, you know," the blonde said with a smile.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't – you'll be arrested."

"I don't follow."

"Your face when they ask you questions… if looks could kill, you'd be responsible for mass murder."

"Hn."

"It's no wonder Duo calls you Mr. Death Glare."

"Duo talks about me?"

Quatre tilted his head to one side.

"Are you going to pretend that you don't talk about him?"

Heero frowned. Did he talk about the loud-mouthed rookie?

"Wufei and I have analyzed his weaknesses," Heero allowed.

Quatre laughed.

"Right. Okay. Ahem, some friendly advice?"

Heero arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

"I understand that you Yankees don't like to give juicy interviews, but you really need to work on your attitude. Piss off the reporters and your name won't be too popular anymore, you know?"

Heero nodded but remained silent.

Quatre sighed and walked off, muttering something that sounded like "Boys."

"I failed." Wufei was standing behind Heero, leaning against his locker and scowling.

"The wind carried it," Heero offered.

Wufei shook his head.

"No. I slipped – the ball was almost over the center of the plate. It was begging Ortiz to hit it."

"Maybe." Heero pulled on his jeans and then shouldered on his denim jacket.

"Where are you headed?" Wufei asked, following Heero to the player's entrance.

"Food, then home. Did you want to eat something?"

Wufei shrugged despondently.

"Come over, we can call in take-out."

They made their way through the crowds on the L-platform and squeezed onto the waiting train. Forced to stand, the stood near one of the doors and tried to look inconspicuous.

After signing a third autograph Heero turned to Wufei.

"Maybe we should start driving?"

"We'd have to buy cars."

"Everyone else does it."

"What happened to caring about the environment? Not letting fame get to you so easily, are you, Yuy?"

Heero rolled his eyes at the Chinese man, who was obviously working himself into a tirade.

"O.K. Nevermind. But let me ask you this – what happens when we blow game seven of the ALDS and you give up the game-winning RBI? Do you really want to risk getting killed on the L?"

Wufei frowned.

"We'll take the cab, if it comes to that. But I'm counting on you to bail me out of situations like that. It's your job to hit home runs whenever I give up one."

"Oh, is that how it works?"

"Something like that."

Heero could tell that Wufei was letting go of his anger and self-doubt. Just as both their moods lifted Heero spotted two familiar figures sitting ahead to his left.

"You have got to be kidding me," Heero muttered.

Wufei followed his gaze and his own eyes narrowed.

"Isn't this the third time we've met them outside of the ballpark?"

"Yeah. We must have pissed off the baseball gods somehow."

"No, I think it's you. You seem to attract Maxwell."

Before Heero could offer a retort the man in question looked over and spotted Heero. He nudged his companion, Trowa Barton, who looked over as well.

Silently the two stood and nudged their way through the other passengers to stand beside Heero and Wufei.

Duo gripped the overhead pole above Heero's head casually.

"Howdy. Fancy meetin' you two here."

Heero glared at him before raising an eyebrow at Barton.

"Is he drunk already?"

Barton shrugged, eyeing Duo suspiciously.

"No need to be drunk when you're still high on adrenaline," Duo explained, grinning manically.

"You do remember who we are, don't you?" Wufei demanded.

"Sure, asshole number one and asshole number two, right?" Wufei growled at him but Duo only grinned wider. "I was merely being friendly… amiable, if you will. I can always go back to taunting and merciless teasing if you would prefer?"

"Or you could just go away?" Wufei suggested.

"Nah. I've gotta stay here til Thursday… something about sweeping the Yankees in their home opener?"

Heero snorted derisively.

"You can't win the ball game by yourself, Maxwell."

"Course I can't! But me and my pals Manny, Ortiz, Varitek, and –"

"I know the Red Sox line-up, thanks."

Duo shrugged, falling silent for maybe two seconds before speaking again.

"So… what are your plans for the evening? Going home to wallow or out to get smashed and forget your miserable existence?"

Even Barton rolled his eyes.

"Takeout." Heero had no idea why he had answered, but as soon as the word left his mouth he regretted it. Maxwell's eyes lit up and his smile turned wolfish.

"Really? I know this great Indian place… mind some company? All me and Tro have to go home to is a hotel room, yanno?"

Heero looked from Wufei to Barton, convinced he was hallucinating. Barton nodded sagely at his look of confusion.

"Have you forgotten that we hate each other?" Heero demanded of the braided man, who shrugged in reply.

"How many times have we almost gotten into fights – on and off the field?" Duo pretended to count on his fingers.

"And now you want to come over and share takeout?"

"Hey, I'm not asking for flowers or nothin', just trying to be friendly. But, really, if you _prefer_ me being an asshole all the time, I'll do it. I just figure… look, man, it's a game, yanno? We got out there, we hit the ball, we throw the ball, we wave at the cameras and make a fuss for the fans. Sometimes I take it off the field – sometimes I let the adrenaline get to me. But most of the time I'm okay. I figure us four are gonna be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years so we might as well forget and forgive. I'm not saying we've gotta be friends, but there's no reason for us to be enemies, is there?"

Wufei looked at Duo as if he thought the braided man was completely insane.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if you had lost tonight," Heero pointed out.

Duo shrugged. "Maybe – maybe not. Scout's honor I'll be on my best behavior – I won't even crack on your Yankees memorabilia."

"How do you know I've got – " Heero stopped before he could further incriminate himself, but Duo was already grinning broadly.

"Cool, so I'll call in the order?"

Duo already had out his cell-phone and was punching in numbers before anyone else could even recover.

Three beers and a lot of green curry later found the foursome sprawled on the couch in Heero's apartment, exchanging horror-stories from their minor league days.

Every once in a while Heero's brain tried to rationalize the situation but he found there was no explanation that justified how he had gone from contemplating murdering Maxwell to letting him snag food from his own plate. It defied logic, but he _liked_ Maxwell. He could even imagine doing something like this in the future. And it wasn't just him – even Wufei was enjoying himself (though he threatened to castrate Maxwell if the braided man tried to eat his food again) and Barton was starting to open up and laugh at Duo's jokes.

The four of them fit together somehow, and Heero could almost forget that he hated Duo Maxwell.

It was past two before Duo, Trowa, and Wufei left. No one said anything about the game the next day, but each seemed to understand that whatever bridges may have been crossed that night weren't likely to exist when they stepped on the field the next day.

Oddly, Heero found himself regretting that.

* * *

May 2nd Saves the Yankees From Sweep by Quatre Winner

After losing two to the Red Sox the Yankees pulled out an 8-7 victory and avoided the sweep yesterday. Wufei Chang pitched three scoreless innings, garnering his first save and giving Yankee fans hope for a new closer. Chang was helped by his teammates – who rallied in the eighth inning to come from a 4 run deficit and win the game. Johnny Damon and then Derek Jeter hit solo-homers while Heero Yuy had a two RBI triple to complete the rally.

The Sox put up a good fight, however, and Duo Maxwell once again elicited boos from the New York crowd by stealing his second base this season and later driving in his first run.

All three matches were heated and the feud between Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell seems to be growing, leaving fans anxious to see which player will come out on top. The two rookies have already inspired legions of fans with their spring training performances and their starts in the regular season seem to be fulfilling their potential.

However, the season is young and these two teams will meet again at least eighteen times. Will these two young players manage to hold their tempers in check or can we expect to see a few ejections in future matchups?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For some reason I have my dates extremely off. The regular season usually starts at the beginning of April… but let's just pretend, shall we?

Also, for those of you who don't obsess about baseball, here's some useful terminology:

RBI: runs batted in. Basically, if you hit a solo home run, it's one RBI. If you hit a double and score someone else it's also one RBI.

AVG. : batting average. An average MLB player will hit about .265ish – or 26 out of every 100 at bats. A really good player, like… Derek Jeter… will hit at least .300 to .340ish. No one's hit .400 (or 40 out of a 100) since Ted Williams back in the day. And, keep in mind, a player's AVG. fluctuates over 160-odd games a season. He might hit .300 one game and .250 the next… giving him a probable .275 AVG.

**Thank you to my four reviewers! It's been so cool to finally see some feedback. I'm glad everyone's enjoying so far and really glad that I might have converted a few to baseball!**

**Also, apologies for the erratic updates.**

**And… last note: I have come to a rather great realization: I am lazy. So I've decided to cut down on Quatre's articles and just have one at the beginning of each section instead of beginning and end. I'm sorry if this devastates anyone.**

Don't own, don't sue.

Warnings: Warnings: yaoi, language, mild violence later on. Bit o'angst. And (gasp!) 1x2x1 and 3x4x3!!!

Out on Strikes (3/?)

May 11th MLB. com

**Rematch** by Quatre Winner

Barely a week ago the Yankees and Red Sox started off the season in the House that Ruth Built. Yesterday saw the Red Sox home-opener against the Yankees and tonight will see a rematch of the first game of the season as the Red Sox pit Trowa Barton against the veteran Mike Mussina, who is still reeling from the sloppy defense of last week that gave him his first loss of the season. Barton, meanwhile, will be looking to pick up his second win and prolong his streak of scoreless innings, currently at nine.

Meanwhile, the batting competition between Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy will likely continue. Last night they both hit home-runs and, unsurprisingly, nearly came to blows after an altercation at home plate after Maxwell scored on a sacrifice fly by Alex Cora.

The intense rivalry between these two players has sparked interest in the younger generations of fans who are placing bets to see who will start the first fight. Even Stephen Colbert gave a nod to the rivalry – issuing Yuy a "Wag of the Finger" for allowing Maxwell to steal second base (again). The media has also caught onto the feud, especially now that Don Mattingly, manager of the Yankees, announced that Posada will be out for the remainder of the season and Heero Yuy will officially take over behind the plate.

Both of these players have shown remarkable skill while batting and fielding and the thing they have yet to prove is who will be the first to blow? Thousands will pack Fenway tonight, and more than a few are hoping that tonight is the night the first punch is thrown.

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"Chirst, what time is it?" Duo glared at the light flooding into the bedroom, which had, moments before, been shrouded in merciful darkness.

"It's nearly six. Some of us have to work for a living, you know."

Duo scowled in the direction of both the light and the voice.

"I work for a living!"

"You play catch to the tune of nearly a million dollars a year, _David_. That's hardly working."

"And you call playing cops and robbers real work, _Solomon_?" Duo growled. "Plus, if I play well enough this season it'll be to the tune of nearly three million – I hope."

A blonde head appeared in the flood of light and arched an eyebrow at Duo.

"Playing cops and robbers? They don't issue pop-guns, you know. And the bad guys don't run around with slingshots."

Duo sat up in the bed, which was rapidly growing cold.

"I know that. But, you know, the way that Chang keeps throwing the ball at me I'm not sure which one of us is in the more dangerous line of work."

Solo grinned and walked back to the bed, sitting beside Duo and putting his arm around the brunette.

"Maybe if you didn't play so well against him…"

"Are you, a loyal son of Boston, suggesting I play less than my best against the _Yankees_?!" Duo affected an outraged look, opening his eyes and mouth to their greatest extent.

Solo chuckled and kissed Duo's nose.

"Really, though, I've got to get to work."

"Come back to bed for a little while – you've still got thirty minutes before you have to leave."

Solo gave him a look that suggested Duo was spoiled.

"You know I play better after sex…" Duo drawled, leaning back on his hands and letting the sheets pool around his hips. He waggled his eyebrows.

"Jesus, you're incorrigible, Duo Maxwell. Did anyone ever tell you that?" Solo muttered as he pulled his tee-shirt off.

"Only everyone that's ever met me," Duo purred as he set to removing Solo's jeans and boxers.

Standing above Duo nude, Solo arched an eyebrow.

"Now, what is it you wanted?"

"Mmm, you?"

Solo grinned as he crawled on the bed over Duo's body, covering the brunette completely.

"I suppose I've got time enough for you, then."

"Well, don't do me any favors or anything. If you want to leave early and spend more quality time with – "

"Duo, shut up."

"Make me."

Solo covered Duo's mouth with his own, the only thing that had ever proven successful at shutting up his lover.

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"Hey, d'you mind if Quatre and Trowa come over for dinner after the game?"

It was some time later and Solo was hurriedly dressing as Duo lounged in the bed, the languor of sex still clouding his mind.

"No, you know I like Quatre – does Trowa know about, um…?

"Ah, not about _us_ but I think he might suspect that I'm gay. I figure he's bound to find out eventually, right?"

Solo shrugged.

"I suppose. But you know how I feel about it – if you don't want to say anything and just pretend we're roommates, it's fine by me."

"Look, I don't _care_ if he knows I'm gay. I don't care if everyone knows it!"

"I'm not having this argument with you again. This is Boston, okay? How do you think the papers will spin a story about a Statie and the hottest rookie since Ted? Let me tell you, they won't make it some fairytale."

Duo frowned.

"I'll be damned if I let the press decide how I should live my life."

"Then think about me – how do you think I'll be treated?"

"Solo –"

"Duo – "

There was a moment of silence, then Solo let out a sigh.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With the eyes and the face – don't do that, you know I can't stay mad at you when you do that."

"Solo, this is my normal face. I'm not smiling or pouting or anything!"

"I know."

Duo suddenly grinned and, in a rush of motion, rose from the bed and embraced Solo.

"I love you, you grumpy bastard."

"And I love you, you big mouthed brat."

"Get outta here, you're going to be late."

"Yeah, yeah. You only want me for sex and then you make me leave. I see how it is."

Duo flopped back onto the bed.

"Yep. That's how it works."

"Duo."

"Yeah?"

"What's going on with you and Heero Yuy?"

Duo shrugged.

"Damned if I know. One night we're sharing Indian food and war stories and the next we're ready to kill each other."

"Maybe you should invite him over, too."

"What, are we making this a coming out party? Yuy already thinks I'm a stain on the grand picture of baseball. He finds out I'm gay and he'll start telling _every_ pitcher to come inside on me."

"Look, invite him and Chang over as well as Trowa and Quatre. That way it won't seem like we're ambushing Trowa. After the Yanks leave you can break it to Trowa, if it feels right. But if it doesn't then just send them off all at once."

"Ah, strategy. Not my strong suit."

"That's why I get paid the big bucks. Now, I really do have to go. I can't let Hilde wander the streets of Boston alone – God only knows how many priests and bureaucrats she'd try to arrest."

"Bless her little anarchist heart. Tell her I said hello – hey, wanna invite her as well? Maybe she and Heero'll hit it off or something."

Solo chuckled.

"If he hates you I imagine that Hilde would give him an aneurysm within five minutes. But I'll pass along the invite. Hit one outa the park for me, huh?"

Solo kissed Duo again and then pulled on his shoes.

"I'll try. Arrest some crooks for me."

"Will do. See ya tonight."

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"Ah! Nothing like beating up on some Yankees, huh Tro?"

The lanky pitcher snorted at Duo's bravado.

"Duo, we haven't even started the game yet. This thing we're doing…it's called stretching."

"Yeah, I know, but look how much better at it we are than them. Check out Yuy and Chang… no style at all!"

Trowa glanced across the field at the Yankees, picking out the two players easily.

"Looks exactly like what we're doing."

"Then you're not looking right. Hey, Quatre's coming over tonight after the game and my roomie volunteered to cook. You got plans?"

"No."

"No you don't wanna come over or no you've got no plans?"

"No, I don't have any plans. Can your roommate cook at all?"

"Tolerably well. He's making spaghetti with the family recipe, though, which is about as good as food gets."

"His family recipe or yours?"

"Er, both of ours actually. It's Sister Helen's."

Trowa frowned in confusion.

"We were orphans, raised at the Maxwell Church together. Sister Helen, one of the nuns, used to cook for us on Sunday's and she'd always make spaghetti. Solo used to help her out. And now he makes it for us."

"So you two are like brothers?"

"No… he's a couple of years older than me."

"But his name is Solo, and you're Duo?"

"Short for Solomon and David. From the Bible, you know?"

"Are you both Maxwell's too?'

"Yeah. Kinda funny, huh?"

"Sure."

"Sure it's funny?"

"Sure, I'll come over."

"Okay. Great. I know Quatre's been dying to get a one on one with you."

"Duo."

"Yeah?"

"Is Quatre only interested in me for the sake of writing an article?"

"Um. I think that's something you'll have to ask him."

"I know he's gay."

"You do?"

"Duo, he practically drools over me in the locker rooms. I have eyes."

"Yeah, well, he can't help it, you are a pretty hot guy, you know?"

"Did you just hit on me?"

"No, I complimented you. There's a very distinct difference."

"Right."

"Right there's a difference?"

"Right I'm a pretty hot guy." Trowa smirked and jogged off towards the bullpen to continue warming up.

"Christ he's irritating," Duo muttered to himself as he prepared to take batting practice.

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"Have plans after the game?"

Heero looked at Duo out of the corner of his eye as the he kicked the dirt in front of home plate.

"Avoiding rabid Bostonians was at the top of my list. Why?"

"Having a bit of a get together at my place – roomie's making spaghetti and you know how that goes," Duo replied as he got into his crouch by the plate.

Heero signaled for a fastball inside, which Duo watched go by for a strike.

"Chang's welcome too, so long as he doesn't plan on decapitating me during the game."

The second pitch was high for a ball.

"Can your roommate cook?"

"Yeah, it's the family recipe."

"His or yours?"

"Jeez, what is it with you people and interrogating me?"

Duo swung at the third pitch and sent the ball down the third base line. Alex Rodriguez chased it down and threw it to first, and the ball beat Duo to the base.

"Yeah, we'll come."

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It was the nineth inning, with the Yankees leading 2-1 courtesy of Rodriguez's two run homer off of Tavarez in the eighth. Duo was up to bat again, and Wufei was pitching relief for the Yankees.

"You're only saying that because you're winning. If I hit this outta the park you're gonna change your mind."

"Maybe," Heero allowed.

Duo shook his head.

Duo swung at the first pitch and the ball hopped off his bat, heading towards the right field bleachers.

Duo grinned, watching the ball for a second before turning to Heero.

"Still coming?"

He jogged around the bases to the applause and cheers of Boston fans and couldn't keep the smile from his face: his first game winning home run.

As Duo approached home most of the Red Sox had gathered by the plate. Gonzalez, who had been on second, was the first to offer Duo a high five. The rest of the team offered congratulations on winning the game after he crossed the plate.

Heero stood off to the side, glaring that the cheering crowd.

"So, how 'bout it?" Duo asked, grinning, as he freed himself from his teammates.

"Yeah. We'll still come. Meet you in the parking lot in an hour?"

"Sounds good. Tell Chang that if he pouts I'll just do it again."

"You wish, Maxwell," Wufei growled, approaching from the mound.

Duo shrugged.

"We'll see."

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An hour later an unlikely group clamored into Duo's battered Land Rover.

Quatre, who had claimed shotgun, snorted in disgust as he buckled his seat belt.

"This is such an unglamorous car. Don't you make enough to afford something new?"

"This car is killing the environment!" Wufei added from the back, where he was sandwiched between Heero and Trowa.

"You really should look into getting a hybrid car," Trowa added.

"Hn."

"Alright! You can all just walk if you don't want to ride in the ugly, gas guzzling monster! Christ you guys whine."

Duo waited until everyone was safely buckled in before tearing out of the parking lot.

"Dear god. We're all going to die." Wufei muttered.

"What did I say about pouting, Wufei?"

Quatre chucked.

"This would make a great article. Maybe even a movie."

"Can you make a movie about a fifteen minute car ride?"

"Well, no, but it would make a good premise. Did you say Solo was making spaghetti?"

"Yep. Sister Helen's recipe."

"Excellent. So, Trowa, how did it feel to pick up your second win?" Quatre turned in the seat so he was looking back at the pitcher.

Trowa shrugged and Wufei exploded.

"There are other people in this car besides Red Sox!"

"Okay, how did it feel to blow your first save opportunity?"

Wufei scowled at Quatre and Heero chuckled.

"You asked for it," he said when Wufei glared at him.

"He sure did. Man, you laid that pitch right over the center of the plate. It was beautiful."

"Maxwell, I'm going to kill you."

"I don't doubt it – the way you aim at my head instead of the strike zone."

Duo parked across the street from the apartment and as he turned off the ignition he felt a jolt of anxiety. Quatre noticed and looked at him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just wondering how… nevermind."

Quatre gave him a look but let the subject drop.

The five trooped up the stairs to the third floor, the scent of food leading them upwards.

"Honey, we're home!" Duo called as he opened the door.

Solo was still in the kitchen, wearing an apron and tossing a salad. Hilde, meanwhile, was seated at the counter in front of the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine.

"Way to go, Duo!" She called out as soon as he opened the door.

She jumped off the stool and rushed over to hug him.

"Thanks, Sarge," he said and hugged her back.

She stepped back and looked up at the crowd of men.

"Oh my, you brought the best looking men in baseball over. All for me?" She blinked up at Duo eagerly.

"They came for food, Hilde. But if you ask nicely they might give you an autograph. Let us in so I can make introductions."

They crowded around the bar, Duo serving wine to the guests as he introduced everyone to Hilde and Solo.

"Guys, this is my roommate, Solomon Maxwell, and his partner, Hilde Schiebeker. You both know Quatre. This is Trowa Barton, Wufei Chang, and Heero Yuy. They're Yankees."

"We _do_ watch _Sports Center_ now and again, Duo," Solo chided as he came around the counter to shake hands with the ball players.

"When we can tear ourselves away from _Cops _reruns, anyway," Hilde added with a smirk.

Quatre chuckled at Duo's sour look.

"You two are partners, in business?" Heero asked after taking a sip of his wine.

Hilde and Solo shared a laugh before Solo answered. "I wish. No, we're Staties. Formally we're known as Lieutenant Maxwell and Sergeant Schiebeker."

"Maxwell?" Wufei asked, looking between Solo and Duo. "You don't don't look like brothers."

"We're not. Raised in the same orphanage – Maxwell Church – so we've got the same name. Christ, I wouldn't want to be Duo's brother for all the money in the world. It's one thing to _choose_ to live with him… but to be forced to live with him? Or send him birthday presents? Nope, he's insufferable enough as it is."

Duo stuck out his tongue at Solo, who laughed along with their guests.

"Let's move to the dining table and we can serve dinner," Solo suggested, pointing towards the long, maple table that was situated between the living room and balcony that overlooked other houses in South End.

"Nice view," Wufei commented.

"Expensive view," Duo muttered. "But yeah, it's worth it. This place is pretty amazing

"Yeah. The Maxwell Church was on the West Side of South Boston, so this place is definitely a step up."

"Jeez, some place to grow up in. I'm shocked Duo lived past puberty," Hilde said as Solo set a bowl of spaghetti in front of her.

"Me too," he said, grinning as Duo swatted at him with a napkin.

Solo finished serving everyone and took a seat at one end of the table.

"To an exciting season," he said, raising his glass.

"Here, here," Quatre said, also raising his glass. Everyone else followed suit before digging into the food.

"You two grew up together, but how did you wind up living together?" Wufei asked after several minutes of silent eating.

"We both went to Carolina on scholarship – me for my stunning athletic abilities and classic good looks and Solo for his unnatural brilliance with all things academic," Duo said around a mouthful of spaghetti. "Course, that's where we met Quatre too – though he was too rich to afford a scholarship. Anyway, Solo and I roomed together freshman year and then the rest of our time there the three of us lived together off campus. And then we moved back to Boston – Solo to join the Statie's and me to be drafted by the Sox, and Quatre really splits his time between hear and New York. And that's our life story."

"Fascinating," Trowa commented dryly.

"So, Duo tells me you're an asshole, Heero," Solo said conversationally.

Heero looked up from eating, shooting Duo a glare.

Hilde laughed.

"Uh-oh. I think someone's in love…"

There was a moment of tense silence as looks were exchanged around the table.

"No, really. That's the same thing Duo used to say about Solo, and me, and… I think you called Quatre an asshole once, right? Seriously, Heero, if Duo's calling you an asshole now it means you'll be painting each other's toe-nails inside a month."

Duo's face turned red.

"That was one time, Hilde. One time."

"I really don't see why you don't paint your nails red – or you could paint them white and put a little red sock appliqué on each?"

"I don't think even Duo could pull that off," Quatre interrupted.

"The day I paint my nails red is the day Yuy paint's his with pinstripes," Duo announced.

Heero pretended to examine his nails.

"Hn. Wouldn't look too bad, I suppose."

Everyone gaped at him and he chuckled at their shocked faces.

"Just because I'm a Yankee doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor."

"Sure, whatever," Duo muttered and took another bite of spaghetti.

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It was after ten when Heero, Wufei, and Hilde called it a night – the Yankees offered to share a cab with her and she instead offered to drive them back to her hotel in her hybrid car. The look of pure love that Wufei shot her was not lost on anyone, and Heero rolled his eyes at the two as they preceded him from the apartment, deep in discussion about the woes of the environment.

"Thank you for having us over, we had a great time," Heero said to Duo as the braided man leaned against the door frame.

"Yeah, it was fun. We'll have to do it again next time you're in town."

"Sure. Only if you and Trowa come over again next time we play in New York."

"Gonna cook for us?"

"Yeah – I'll make one of our family recipes for you."

"Japanese food? That's awesome!"

"Actually, I was going more with chicken pot-pie. My mom's Irish and my Dad's Japanese… and he could never cook more than rice without setting something on fire."

"Oh. Huh, well, I've never had home made chicken pot-pie. Sounds awesome."

"Yeah, well, I better go before I'm abandoned."

Duo chuckled.

"Make sure you get invited to the wedding."

Heero laughed at the joke and waved goodbye.

Duo closed the door and went to join Trowa, Quatre, and Solo in the living room.

_Baseball Tonight _was on and Solo was sitting in one of the arm chairs, arguing over the night's Web Gems with Quatre, who was on the couch with Trowa.

Duo perched on the arm of Solo's chair and, after a moment, Solo put an arm around Duo's waist and pulled him into the chair.

Grinning at Solo, Duo tucked his head against the blonde man and was starting to get comfortable when someone cleared their throat.

Duo started and spun around to look at Trowa guiltily.

"Christ, I totally forgot that you – damn it. Er, Trowa, there's something we should talk about."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"Like the fact that you've invited me over to participate in an orgy? Solo already told me about that. I cleared my throat because your feet were blocking the tv."

Duo looked at Solo, who was grinning, to Quatre, who was also grinning, and then back to Trowa.

"We aren't really having an orgy tonight, are we? I lent out all of the bondage gear and well, an orgy without bondage gear just isn't the same."

Trowa chuckled and put an arm around Quatre, pulling the blonde to his side. Quatre looked both shocked and pleased by this new development.

"Shame," he said as he traced his fingers over Quatre's arm lazily.

Duo was half-way out of the chair before Solo grabbed his braid and pulled him back.

"Don't forget, you're mine," Solo growled.

"But he's – "

"I know he's hot. We all know he's hot. But it looks like he's only interested in Quatre."

Quatre blushed, uncomfortable with all of the sudden attention.

"Um…"

"Yep, I'm pretty beat too, Q-man. Me and Solo are gonna hit the sack, so you two should probably run along and continue your whole "we just realized we like each other" thing."

Quatre and Trowa laughed and rose from the couch.

"Thank you for dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you." Trowa told Solo as he helped Quatre into his jacket.

"Nice meeting you two. I'm glad Duo will have you playing with him – he needs someone with a cool head to keep him out of trouble."

"He needs an army to keep him out of trouble," Trowa replied.

The two laughed and shook hands.

After Quatre and Trowa had left Duo hugged Solo from behind.

"That went really well."

"Yeah. Those Yanks aren't too bad, you know?" Solo turned in the embrace so that he could hug Duo as well.

"No, not too bad at all."

"Especially Heero. Wufei's a little schizoid with the justice and environment thing, but Heero seems like a great guy."

Duo pulled back and looked at Solo.

"Where exactly are you going with this?"

"Nowhere. I don't think. But when Hilde said you were in love…"

"I was embarrassed because I thought she was outing us, not because I'm attracted to Heero."

Solo grinned.

"Good, because there's no way he's as good in bed as I am."

"Oh yeah? And how good is that?"

"Do I really need to remind you?"

"I think so, yeah."

Tbc

A/N: I promise this will be 1x2x1 but we're taking a bit of a detour first. There's gotta be angst before those two will wind up together – but they will, never fear!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!!!

Okay, so, in response to reviews and my own aforementioned laziness, I'm gonna be cutting out Quatre's articles. He's got bigger and better things on the horizon anyway.

-------------------------------

Out on Strikes 4/?

June

Wufei couldn't keep the grin from his face as he walked out of the Player's Entrance to Yankee Stadium and saw who was waiting for him.

"Hey, you."

Hilde grinned and walked towards him.

"Hey yourself," she said as she hugged him around the neck, kissing his cheek.

Wufei grabbed her hand as she pulled away.

"Thanks for coming up to see me."

She shrugged.

"There was a protest at the Bronx Zoo over the new pandas, and since Yankee Stadium was in the neighborhood I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about over this new pitcher called Chang."

"Oh yeah? And what did you decide?"

"Well, I don't think I've ever rooted for the Yankees in my life. I know you were playing against the Rangers, but still. And if you dare tell Duo –"

"Trust me, your secret is safe."

"Good. I was thinking, Wufei."

He turned to look at her, the serious tone of her voice worrying him. Could she be breaking up with him already?

"Yes?"

"If you feel up to taking me out to dinner then I might be convinced to cheer for the Yankees again in the future."

He laughed.

"What if we're playing the Red Sox?"

"That depends on how many times you plan on buying me dinner, I suppose."

"Hm. We'll have to see. This seems to be an expensive proposition to gain one fan."

"But it's me!"

Wufei pulled her close and kissed her on the lips, shocking the crowd waiting on the L-platform. He saw cameras snap their picture.

After the kiss ended he looked down at Hilde's flushed face.

"Then I suppose it's worth it."

------------------------------

"Man I love road trips. New city, same hotel, same food. Same umpires… this is the life man," Duo said over his shoulder.

Trowa shook his head in amusement when Duo threw himself onto the hotel bed.

"You're just depressed because your batting average fell two points today," he said as he closed the hotel door behind him.

"Actually it only fell one and a half points but the stats people rounded down. Now Yuy's ahead of me." Duo groaned into the sheets before rolling over and staring at the ceiling. "Which I'm sure he'll be calling to tell me any minute now… wait for it…"

Duo's cell phone, which he had placed on the nightstand that separated the two double beds, started to ring.

Shooting Trowa a knowing look, Duo picked up the phone and flipped it open.

"Maxwell here," he said grumpily. "Yeah, I noticed that, but thanks for checking, Yuy. But you're only one point ahead at .368… if I go four for four tomorrow then I'll be back up there… Oh really? I doubt that, but you can try… Yeah, we fly into New York at five am on Tuesday… Sure, sure, we'll meet for lunch. Yankee Pizza? Sounds like your kinda place. They better have good calzones… Okay. Later." Duo snapped the phone shut and replaced it on the dresser, shaking his head and smiling slightly.

"He's so full of it."

"You are, too. The both of you have the biggest egos I've ever encountered."

"You only say that because you haven't talked with Wufei enough. I swear, that guy thinks he can save the planet by himself."

"You're wrong about that. He thinks Hilde will save it with him."

Duo shuddered.

"I can't believe those two. You know she took the train down there to see him play this weekend? To watch the Yankees play! It's unbelievable."

Trowa shrugged and started to undress.

"She likes him."

"Yeah – that's the part I don't get! I mean, the guy has a stick up his ass _and_ he tries to decapitate me every time he pitches against me. I mean, what's there to like?"

"Late night conversations about global warming? Plotting to destroy evil corporations and protest drilling in Alaska?" Trowa mused.

"Sounds really romantic."

"Well what do you and Solo talk about?"

Duo grinned, a sappy, goofy grin that made Trowa cringe.

"Don't do that. It's creepy."

"Do what?"

"That grin. That… thing, it's gross."

"You do it too."

"I do not."

"How did Quatre like his birthday present?"

Trowa smiled, a slight expression that softened his face, and his eyes glossed over.

Duo sat up and pointed.

"See! Told ya! You make the same face!"

"Mine is much less disgusting."

"Whatever man," Duo grumbled as he started to undress. "You're totally smitten."

"It's Quatre. How could I not be?"

"Good point."

--------------------------------------

"Zechs. Good game tonight."

"Yuy. I should be saying that to you, you hit the home run off of me, after all."

Heero shrugged and turned on the bar stool to face the tall pitcher.

"It was the wind. A slight shift and that would have been a strike and you would have won."

"Is that a subtle way of inviting me over to your place?" Zechs smirked as he took a sip of beer.

Heero shrugged.

"Maybe. I thought we were done with that."

"I wasn't suggesting I move in, Yuy."

"What, just sex and then you head back to your hotel?"

"I imagine staying the night and leaving in the morning would be more civilized."

"This isn't going to become a habit, is it?"

"Hm. I do believe your interest in me is waning. Who is my competition?"

Heero shook his head and took a large sip of his own drink.

"Don't flatter yourself, Zechs."

The taller man narrowed his eyes at the catcher.

"There is someone else. Who is he? It is a he, I assume."

Heero glared at Zechs moodily.

"It isn't any of your business."

"You're trying to hide it from me, which means it's someone in baseball. It's not another Yankee."

"What makes you think that?"

"Come on, Yuy, you're the only gay player alive who would be caught in that uniform."

"I like the pinstripes. Very classic."

"It's the road uni that's so unattractive."

"Are we really going to discuss uniforms?"

"No, it was merely a tangent. It has to be someone you see fairly often… that reporter? Quatre Winner?"

"No."

"That's right, I hear he's drooling over Barton… Is it Barton?"

"No."

"But it's probably a Red Sox… you've already played three series against them. Maxwell!"

"Hn."

"It is Maxwell! I knew it. Of course it's him."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, he's got long hair, like me. He's got a great body, also like me."

"And he's an arrogant ass, also like you."

"You're replacing me with a younger model."

"I am not. He's taken."

"And so here you are, pining after him. How juvenile. Grow some balls and take him."

"He's with a decent guy. A cop."

Zechs winced.

"I take it back. Let it be, you don't want to get arrested in Boston."

"I doubt I would last ten minutes in the holding cell."

"Too right. So, how about it?"

"Hn?"

"That string-less sex I mentioned earlier?"

Heero drained his beer and pulled out his wallet.

"Just tonight?"

"Yes, Yuy, just tonight. I promise I won't loiter around in the morning either."

Heero shrugged and put down a ten.

"Fine."

"Yuy, if you weren't so damn hot I think I'd punch you."

"You're welcome to try it, Merquise."

Zechs arched a blonde eyebrow.

"I take it back. That attitude is a complete turn on."

"You're depraved."

"Indeed."

-----------------------------------------

"I didn't realize my company was so painful."

Solo frowned and looked across the table at Quatre. The blonde was looking at him over the top of his menu.

"I'm sorry, my mind just isn't here tonight."

"Is it on the west coast?"

"Yeah. Yours?"

"Mine's here, but my heart seems to be misplaced."

Solo nodded and forced himself to look at the menu.

"It's tough – tougher than I thought it would be," Quatre said.

"You get used to it after awhile. You'll see him for a few days and then not for weeks, and then again for a few days… and then when the season is over you get him for six months until the whole thing starts over again."

Quatre frowned. "Something's bothering you."

"Is it that obvious?"

"No. Well, yes."

Solo chuckled.

"I'm not very good company tonight, am I?"

Quatre was saved from answering as the waiter came to take their order.

"So what's up with you and Duo?"

Solo's face took on a guarded expression.

"What do you mean?"

Quatre shrugged and took a sip of his water.

"I just get the feeling that things between you two are a bit… strained at the moment. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Well, yeah. It's completely ridiculous, I know."

"But? Oh. Hm, is this about Heero?"

Solo frowned. "Huh? No. Wait, what about him?"

Quatre blushed.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"No, you brought it up. Why would this be about Heero?"

Quatre sighed.

"I don't know. It's just that… well, they went from hating each other to being friends quickly and I thought that maybe you were… I don't know, a little jealous about it."

"No. I mean, it's sort of weird when Heero calls Duo after a game just to talk about it… and in a way I do feel left out of that. But I don't really mind. It's nice, actually. Makes me feel less guilty about going out with Hilde and some of our partners.'

"Oh. Right. That does make sense. So, what is this about then? It is about Duo, isn't it?"

"Yeah. He… he wants to come out."

Quatre's eyes widened.

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah. It's crazy. He has no idea what will happen to him once his fans realize he's gay. I mean, he's got this whole three year plan, did he tell you?"

Quatre shook his head.

"He figures that if he wins Rookie of the Year this year, and gets named as an All-Star the Sox will renegotiate his contract."

"Probably."

"Right, so next year, if he can win the MVP or at least come second in the voting he figures that his status in Boston will be pretty secure."

"Okay… What happens in year three?"

"That's when he comes out, after the All-Star break, of course. And if Boston's in contention for the Playoffs. He figures they won't try to bench him or trade him if they're close to winning."

"That does make sense, in a way."

"Except for the part where it's a crazy idea that isn't going to work. The press will eat him for breakfast here in Boston! Not to mention all these calls he's been getting about endorsements… those'll go away too."

Quatre frowned.

"But if this is something he wants to do… if he wants to be open about his sexuality, then he should. Imagine what kind of role model he'll make! How many gay kids are out there, still scared to be open because they think they won't be able to get anywhere in life?"

"Maybe they aren't scared, maybe they're being smart. It won't end well. He'll get smeared by the press. And even if they do make the playoffs that third year, they'll probably trade him the instant the season's over."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Duo's been really popular with the fans. He's young and he's attractive – "

"And if he's gay that doesn't matter anymore."

"What, you don't think gay men watch baseball? Outside of us two?"

"No. But." Solo dragged a hand threw his hair. "When we were kids, Duo was pretty scrawny, you know? But he still had a mouth like nobody's business. I swear, he talked like he was six-foot five and weighed two hundred pounds and he was barely four feet tall and maybe sixty pounds… you can imagine how well his insults were taken by guys twice his size. He'd get beat up pretty badly on a regular basis before I got taken in by the church. And I just…started looking after him. He sure as hell couldn't do the job on his own. The first week I was there some street rat put Duo in the hospital with two broken ribs. I found that jerk and beat the hell out of him – and he left Duo alone. They all did after that." Solo looked at Quatre, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I can't protect him from this, though. I can't go beat the hell out of the press or the Red Sox management, or the fans, or anyone. I can't do anything to protect him if this goes bad. And he can't… he thinks he can take it if this doesn't turn out well, but he can't. You know him, Quatre, baseball is his life."

"Baseball and you. Don't forget, Solo, you mean everything to him."

"Yeah, well, why the hell won't he listen to me then?"

"You know how he gets – he thinks this is the right thing to do and he's going to do it, even if it means getting burned."

"Stupid of him."

"It's what makes him Duo."

"Yeah. I know. That's what makes this so hard.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Hilde?"

"Hm?"

Wufei pulled her against his chest and re-wrapped the sheets around them.

"Any chance you want to move to New York?"

She laughed.

"Any chance you want to get traded to Boston?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Not really."

"Me either. But I'll make you a deal."

"Yeah?" He covered a yawn with one hand.

"Yeah. We'll try commuting for the rest of this season. Then, in November, we'll have this talk again."

"Same place?"

"Hopefully not.'

"What do you mean?"

"I hope I can convince you to get a new mattress between now and then – this thing feels like a rock."

"Here, sleep on my chest,"

Hilde shifted so that her head was pillowed in the crook of his arm and sighed.

"Much better," she murmured right before falling back into sleep.

"Yeah," Wufei agreed, smiling as he closed his eyes.

--------------------------------

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings: yaoi, angst, language, wee bit of violence

A/N: This isn't really how the All-Star pitchers are selected – that happens later and it isn't voted on, it's odd. But I simplified it for the sake of the story.

* * *

Out on Strikes 5/?

"Duo sit down right now or I'll tie you to the chair," Solo threatened from his position on the couch. Across the room Trowa and Quatre were squashed together in the armchair, both following Duo's pacing with one eye and focusing on the television with the other.

"I can't, man! I'm just – "

Solo watched Duo take another step towards the television and pounced, grabbing Duo and hauling him down onto the couch beside him.

"You're blocking the TV, and I know that Quatre and Trowa want to see this too."

Duo scowled but remained seated, and still, for all of ten seconds before he started bouncing his left leg.

"Damnit, Duo, sit still!"

"I can't! This is the rest of my life, Solo!"

"This is not the rest of your life! It's one year – one game even!"

"But – the plan!"

"Damn the plan, Duo! It's a crap plan anyway and you know it."

Duo stopped his jittering long enough to look at Solo, his face slack.

"I don't think it's crap at all. I realize I'm not quite the genius you are, but I have thought this out."

"Yeah, well not enough!"

"Look, Solo, I know exactly how to play this off. I know you're worried about endorsements falling through, and you're right about that, but it isn't like I really need them. If I get named All-Star and then Rookie of the Year, I know the Sox will – "

"We've been through this already, Duo."

"Well, then what's the problem?"

"What's the problem?! I'm the problem, Duo. I don't want you to do it. You can't."

"You think I'm gonna get my feelings hurt and go cry about it live on TV or something?"

"No, Duo, I think that I'm going to go to work one day and find the precinct swamped with the press, and I'm going to find that no one wants to change in the locker with a queer cop, and that –"

"Guys! They're announcing the All-Stars!" It was Trowa, who rarely yelled or even raised his voice.

Duo and Solo stared at each other for a moment before scooting away from each other to sit at opposite ends of the couch and then focused on the television.

"And here are this year's American League All-Stars: Behind the plate is Heero Yuy, at first Treize Khushrenada, at second Robinson Canoe, at short-stop we have Michael Young, at third base Alex Rodriguez. And in the outfield we have Melky Cabrera, Ichiro Suzuki, and Duo Maxwell. This year's pitchers will be Chien Ming Wong, Wufei Chang, Trowa Barton, Jon Pappelbon, Justin Verlander, Rich Harden, and Johan Santana. Congratualtions to this year's All-Stars. Join us for live coverage of the Home Run Derby that will start on Tuesday night, with the All-Star game to follow on Wednesday."

Solo turned off the television. An awkward silence had fallen on the room.

Quatre cleared his throat.

"Well, congratulations guys. I'd say this calls for a celebration. We should all go out later tonight – maybe around eight or so?" He looked between Duo and Solo, both of whom were ignoring the other.

Suddenly Duo's phone started to ring.

"Um, sure, Quat – sounds great. Meet at your place?" Duo said hurriedly as he rose from the couch and jogged across the room to grab his cell phone.

"Okay…" Quatre looked at Solo, who was studiously avoiding his gaze and staring at the wall behind the television.

Quatre looked back at Duo, but the braided man was on the balcony, talking on his phone and gesturing expansively with his arms. He was grinning slightly and seemed to have completely forgotten the argument he had just had with Solo.

"We should go. We'll see you at eight?" Trowa looked at Solo, who only nodded in response.

Trowa and Quatre silently rose and made their exit, each looking back at Solo as they left.

* * *

"Congrats to you too, man. I guess this means we'll be playing on the same team for a night, huh? Yeah, they'll announce the contestants for the Home Run Derby tomorrow night, I guess." Duo looked over his shoulder back into the apartment. Solo still hadn't moved from his place on the couch.

"Look, Heero, this is kind of a bad time…"

"Something up with you and Solo?" Heero's voice sounded mildly concerned.

"Whoa, where'd the intuition come from, Yuy? Just room-mate stuff, you know how it goes."

"Huh, haven't you guys been living together for most of your lives?"

"Yeah – I don't really know what's up, to be honest."

"Well, if you ever need to talk about it…"

"I can't believe my ears, did Heero Yuy, Prince of the Yankees, just offer sympathy to Duo Maxwell, the Bane of his Existence?"

"Hn."

"Hey, I really should go, but I'll call you tomorrow and we can make plans to hook up on Monday?"

"Sounds good."

"Alright, later man."

Duo hung up the phone but didn't immediately go back inside. He stood on the balcony, savoring the warm breeze and the heat of the sun on his face.

He wasn't sure what was more upsetting – the fact that Solo was afraid to come out, or the fact that Duo had been blind to the fact that it bothered Solo so much.

After another few minutes spent banging his head on the balcony railing, Duo headed back inside.

"Solo, we need to talk."

* * *

Quatre handed Trowa a mug of coffee and looked at the pitcher over the rim of his own mug.

"You're thinking about something, Quatre, what is it?" Trowa spoke softly, his words almost swallowed by the mug as he raised it to his lips.

"Um… just thinking, I suppose. It's a bit tough to see them this at odds with each other."

Trowa nodded and gestured for Quatre to elaborate.

"They've been together for as long as I've known them… but neither one of them has actually come out to anyone but us – and Hilde, of course. I know that it bugs Duo, he hates lying about anything."

"This isn't exactly lying though, it's protecting himself."

"Or hiding himself."

Trowa frowned.

"Quatre, he and I are both high profile athletes, the press try to follow our every move. When they find out anything about our private lives it becomes news. And, let's face it, the bias against homosexuals is as strong as ever – and we have to share a locker room with a bunch of guys. You really think the media will make Duo out to be a hero? Or do you think they'll take the opportunity to bring him down?"

"But I can spin it – I can try and control the reaction of the press."

"Then you'll go down with him. Look, I realize the two of you have this hang-up with not coming out, but I'm with Solo on this one. It'll ruin both his and Duo's careers."

"Maybe making millions of dollars a year isn't all that Duo cares about. Maybe he wants to make a difference and try and change public perception."

"Then he's about to start fighting a losing battle. There's no use trying to change centuries of prejudice overnight. He can't exactly go stand in front of the Green Monster and deliver his own "I Had a Dream" speech and expect folks to cheer him."

Quatre shook his head and set down his mug.

"I don't understand you, Trowa. This is something worth fighting for. Even if it's a battle he'll lose, at least he will have fought. If he does decide to come out, what are you going to do? Are you going to stand by him as a friend or will you abandon him to the angry mobs?"

"I'm not going to come out with him, that's certain."

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because I've fought too damn hard and too long to just give up on this. My private life is just that – private. I don't want to be judged by fools who have no idea what I'm really like, but only care that I like guys. There's no moral high ground in being martyred, Quatre. It's a waste and it's stupid. I don't see you rushing to join in in any parades, either."

Quatre frowned. "You're right, I'm not joining any parades. And maybe this makes me a coward, but I promised my mother I wouldn't come out until after my father died. Which he did three months ago, so you're right, maybe I should quit dragging my heels about the whole thing and go call the newspaper."

Trowa slammed down his mug and dragged a hand through his hair.

"Why are we fighting about this? It isn't even our fight! It's theirs. They shouldn't be fighting about it either – Duo and I just got named as All-Stars today, for fuck's sake."

Quatre drew in a deep breath.

"I know you did, and I'm really happy for the both of you. But – this is important, Trowa. Their fight and ours."

Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre and pulled the blonde closer to him.

"I know, but not today, okay? Not today."

* * *

"Wufei, I hope this isn't a bad time?"

"No, no, it's never a bad time. Please, come in, Hilde. It's great to see you."

Wufei opened the door to his apartment wider and gestured Hilde in. She stepped through the door and he pulled her into a hug, kissing her on the forehead.

"It's great to see you."

"You already said that, Wufei."

Hilde pulled away and walked past him to sit on the couch.

Wufei, frowning, followed her.

"I take it you haven't taken the train all the way down here to congratulate me on making the All-Star squad." He sat down beside her on the couch.

"No I – oh, I completely forgot they named the All-Stars today. Oh, Wufei, that's great. Congratulations." She turned to him and hugged him. And then started to cry.

"Hilde – Hilde what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Wufei. I'm sorry to ruin this day for you, but I really don't want to wait longer. I've waited as long as I can. And I've tried to figure this out in my head, I've tried to make it work, but I just don't think it can and Jesus, Wufei, I can't believe I'm going to do this to you. I don't want to, and I wish I could take it all back and – "

"Woman, what are you going on about?! Just, calm down and try to think rationally."

"Wufei, I'm pregnant."

* * *

"Duo – "

"No, me first. I'm the one with the big mouth."

"Duo – "

"Solo, really, shut up and let me talk."

"Duo, I – "

"Seriously, I'll just talk over you, man. You know I can – I do it all the time."

"Duo, I think – "

"Okay, here goes. I know I've been on a rage about coming out. And I just never really thought about how much it would affect you. Which I realize is incredibly stupid and selfish, because we're in this together, and well, because of who I am – it'll just be ten times worse for you. You can't hit a home run and make them shut up. I just, this is important to me Solo, and one of these days, I really want us to have a serious conversation about this. But… look, I understand. And, you're right. I can't do this, not to you. Not to us. I'm willing to forget about the plan. At least for now, alright?"

Duo grinned at Solo, who was slowly shaking his head.

"Duo, I think we should spend some time apart."

"What do you mean? I'm away every other week. How much more time apart can we have?"

"I mean time apart… from being together. We both need to really think about this relationship, and where it's headed. And I can never think too objectively when we're together. We need to think about what's best for each of us – and we need to

consider the fact that it might not be this."

"Solo. Wait, hang on a sec. We've been together since – well, since forever! I know you're what's best for me! Remember that semester you spent abroad and we agreed to see other people? And remember how two weeks into the semester I borrowed enough money from Quatre to fly over to Paris to see you? And I found you with another guy? Solo, I can't do that again. I can't – you're my other half. I know I'm a pain in the ass, but you're my better side. Shit, Solo. I can't think objectively when we aren't together!"

"Duo, relationships are about compromise – "

"I am compromising, damnit!"

"But you can't give up who you are as a compromise."

"I don't understand. You're the one who doesn't want me to come out – and now that I've agreed not to, you're dumping me?"

"I don't want you to drop it to appease me, Duo. I won't let you give up something you care that much about."

"I care that much about you, Solo. Forget coming out, without you there's no point in it!"

"Duo, you are your own person outside of me."

"I know that, damnit. But – this isn't something I can do on my own."

"If you can't do something on your own, Duo, then you shouldn't be doing it."

"Don't you dare start quoting Father Maxwell to me!"

"I wouldn't have to if you had just listened to him better."

"Listened to what? His sermons about the sins of homosexuality? 'Cause you seem to have done a pretty good job of forgetting those yourself."

"Duo, while you're in New York for the All-Star game I'm going to find another place to live."

"Don't, Solo."

"This is going to happen, Duo. You can't wheedle me out of it."

"Then at least stay here. It'll be easier for me to stay somewhere else. All of your stuff is here."

"So is yours."

"There's only one thing here that I need, Solo."

Duo walked out of the room and into the bedroom to start packing.

TBA………..


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings: yaoi, angst, violence, language

Not mine, don't sue!

A/N: The Home Run Derby traditionally takes place the day before the All-Star Game. Players from the American and National Leagues compete over several rounds – with the highest totals of homers getting passed onto the next round. I forget now how players are chosen for the Derby, and I'm too lazy to look it up… it isn't really important to the story anyway. But the winner does usually get a pretty sweet car out of the deal, and they give away money to charities, and deserving folks, and so on. It isn't a really serious competition, though. Often there are a lot of jokes and the players goof off.

* * *

Out on Strikes 6/?

"Heero, buddy, I got a favor to ask you."

Heero, in the middle of pulling on his jeans, hopped towards the door to his apartment still mostly undressed.

"What?" He yelled at the door that separated him from Duo.

"I decided to come up a day early and my hotel reservations aren't till tomorrow… and I'd rather not go through the hassle of – hey, why are we talking through a door? Are you gonna let me in or do I have to provide a good reason first?"

"I'm trying to get dressed. Give me a second."

Heero finally zipped his jeans and then opened the door. Duo arched an eyebrow at his naked torso and hummed in appreciation. Much to his embarrassment, Heero flushed at Duo's speculative smirk.

"No wonder the ladies' are all after you, Yuy, do you live at the gym or something?"

"I try to keep in shape. Come in."

Heero closed the door after Duo entered and leaned against it to survey the braided man.

Duo seemed agitated. He set his duffel bag down by the couch and then flopped onto it, but less than a second later he jumped back to his feet and started pacing.

"Heero, if I tell you something are you gonna use it against me?"

Duo had whirled around and started to approach Heero rapidly.

"That depends. If you are about to tell me you can't hit a curveball on the inside, yeah, I'm going to use it against you. Otherwise… probably not."

"Funny, Yuy. They teach all you Yankees how to tell crap jokes or did you go to a special seminar on your own?"

"No, they print helpful tips for social interactions on the towels – that way we get a new one every day."

Duo chuckled and seemed slightly more relaxed.

"What's going on, Duo?"

"Heero… I realize we're still on shaky ground where our… friendship is concerned, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I'm gay."

Heero blinked, then frowned in confusion.

"Say something, man!"

"Was that supposed to be a big secret?"

"What?!"

"Duo, I'm not blind. It's a bit obvious, isn't it, that you and Solo are… together?"

"It is?!"

"Yes?"

"Fuckin' A! Does the whole world know?"

"Ah, probably not. Actually, when you aren't around Solo, or Quatre, or Trowa, or me, it's not all that obvious."

"That's because they're – you're gay?!"

"Was that supposed to be a secret, too?"

"You?! Mr. Square? The future Yankees captain is queer?!"

Heero scowled. He wasn't quite sure why the world pictured him following in the footsteps of Derek Jeter and Don Mattingly, but the press had already painted him to be the next Yankees Golden Boy. A fact with which Duo constantly taunted him.

"Besides, I'm not."

"Not what?" Heero asked, now thoroughly confused.

"I'm not with Solo, not since he dumped me… six hours ago."

Heero could think of nothing to say, since "It's about damn time, wanna fuck?" just didn't seem to be the appropriate response.

"So, gay man to gay man, do you ever want to come out?"

Heero shrugged and took a seat on the couch.

"Sometimes, because it seems like the right thing to do. But most of the time it doesn't matter to me – it's no one's business but my own, after all."

"Yeah, but… don't you think you could be a great role model? Well, not you obviously, you represent all that is evil in the world, what with your pin stripes and all." Duo ducked the pillow Heero threw at his head and sat down at the other end of the couch.

"Solo dumped you because you want to come out?" Heero guessed.

"Yes and no. It's… complicated. I think, in the end, he got a bit bored of it. Of me. Honestly, I'm surprised he held out as long as he did. I mean, can you imagine being stuck with me since you were twelve?"

"Duo."

"No, you can't. I sure as hell can't. I mean, you can't even stand me for nine innings! And, all your faults aside, you're a pretty stoic guy."

"That would be one of those faults, according to some."

"What, someone want you to confess undying love and you just shrugged instead?" Duo suggested, grinning at whatever mental image he had conjured.

Heero shrugged, which caused Duo to chuckle.

"Something like that."

"So – what are our plans for the evening? Couple of hot guys like us should hit the town, huh?" Duo had jumped back up to his feet and all trace of the previous conversation was gone from his face as he grinned down at Heero.

* * *

"Solo? What's up?"

Hilde was on the balcony of Wufei's apartment, watching the Chinese man pace back and forth in his living room. Solo's call had come at an opportune moment, as Wufei was still struggling with a response to Hilde's news and she was deflated, now that she had told him.

"Duo and I are finished," her partner said, his voice empty.

"Solo, what happened?"

"He decided to give up on coming out and I couldn't take it. I won't be responsible for his – for him, damnit."

"Solo, he did it because he loved you."

"He should do it because he loves himself. I shouldn't have kept it going as long as it did – I'm not what he needs."

"Solo, don't say that. You made him so happy! And he made you happy, didn't he?"

"Yes," Solo said and the admission sounded as brittle as broken glass.

"Solo."

"Hilde, any chance you want to come over and get incredibly drunk?"

"I can't. I'm – "

"In New York, right?"

"Yes, but I'm pregnant."

"Hilde! How long?"

"Two months."

"How'd he take the news?"

"He's still processing. Honestly, your call was a godsend. This is giving him some time to think, though he looks ready to kill something."

"He doesn't treat you right, let me know. I'll arrest him on site next time he comes to town and introduce him to some nice regulars."

"Solo!"

"Just looking out for you and my nephew – or niece."

"Oh, and who said you'd be Uncle Solo?"

"Me, of course. You kid'll need a positive influence, with you and Chang as parents."

"Very funny. Solo, are you sure you're okay with this? With Duo?"

"I have to be, don't I? He's needs to be challenged, he doesn't need someone who can just make him happy."

"I don't understand."

"Duo wants the world, Hilde, and he's going to get it, one way or another. But I don't, I'm content with life as it's been handed to me. I'm a roadblock to him, he just hasn't realized it yet. And better to end it now, before he's aware. I don't want him to be bitter – especially towards me."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Solo."

"I think you are too. Any chance after you have this baby you'd consider a sex change operation? I'm sure we'd be happy together."

"Never in a million years." She saw Wufei approaching the door to the balcony. "I've got to go, but I'm going to call you tomorrow and we're going to talk some more."

"Okay."

"Bye." Hilde snapped the phone shut and stood aside as Wufei joined her.

"I'm glad you didn't just call me," he started.

Hilde waited for him to continue.

"There's something I should have told you about me, months ago." Wufei paused and drew in a breath. "I was married."

"You were what?"

"Married, at eighteen, to my girlfriend from high school."

"What happened?"

"She died."

"Oh, Wufei!"

"She died in childbirth."

"Wufei, I'm so sorry. What happened to…?"

"Our daughter was stillborn."

"Wufei."

"I don't want your pity, please."

"It's sympathy, there's a difference. I'm sorry it happened to you."

Wufei stared out at the city for several minutes, lost in thought and memory. Finally he looked down at Hilde, his brow knit with concentration.

"Hilde, what do you want from me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know what I want from you, but I don't know what you want from me."

"What do you want from me?"

"I won't say just yet, I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"Oh, so you get the upper hand. You get to sacrifice yourself for me. You are such a chauvinist, Chang!" Hilde made to walk past him.

Wufei grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce hug.

"I love you, you stupid women. It isn't about superiority. I only want what's best for you, and I know you're stubborn enough to not think of yourself first."

Hilde's arms went around him and she held him tightly.

"I'm not sure what I want from you, Wufei. I know that I want to make you happy and," she smiled ruefully, "I want to challenge you."

"Woman, no one has ever challenged me like you do."

"And you? What do you want from me?"

She felt him stiffen under her arms.

"Tell me, right now, or I'm going to leave," she warned and pulled away to look at his face.

"I want you to marry me."

Hilde stared up at him in disbelief.

"Because I'm pregnant?"

"Because I would be an idiot to let you get away from me."

"Wufei – "

"This part doesn't require your comments," he said and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

"Wufei – " she started again when they broke for air.

"Still trying to talk, I see."

He lifted her in his arms, ignoring her surprised shriek, and carried her into the bedroom.

"Wufei, really, this is – very nice," she finished as he continued to kiss her, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her navel, where he proceeded to caress her still flat abdomen.

"I can't wait for you to be fat," he murmured.

"Hey!" She hit him with a pillow.

He smiled at her, and she almost missed the look of sadness in his eyes as he glanced back down at her belly.

* * *

"New York, New York!" Quatre smiled at Trowa as the walked into Grand Central. "I love it here, I must admit."

"You love it everywhere, Quatre. Is there anywhere you've been that you hate?"

"Not yet. Give me the chance to see everywhere, though, and I'm sure I will encounter some place to hate."

Trowa smiled indulgently and hefted his bag.

"And where are our wayward escorts?" He mused, surveying the press of humanity inside the terminal and looking for three familiar faces.

"There they are – oh, Hilde's here too!"

Trowa followed Quatre's pointed finger to a small group lounging by one of the entrances. He was amused by the three baseball player's attempts to conceal their identity,

Duo was the most successful, his beat up tennis shoes, baggy jeans, and Red Sox hoodie made him look like a college student, and with the hood pulled over his head his trademark braid was hidden from sight. He was also wearing sunglasses, which Trowa thought was a bit extreme.

Heero had taken a different, tidier approach. He wore fitted jeans and a polo shirt, the outfit completed with a Yankees cap and sunglasses.

Wufei stood out the most, however. He too had donned jeans, but the crisp button up he wore only accentuated his physique, and anyone who took a second glance would recognize him.

"Don't you think the sunglasses are a bit much?" Trowa said as he and Quatre approached.

Duo winced and Heero scowled.

"Why are you shouting?" Duo demanded.

Trowa looked at Wufei and Hilde, the latter mimed drinking from a bottle.

"Are you two hungover?!" Quatre demanded, hands firmly planted on his hips.

"Why are you shouting?" Heero asked.

Quatre exchanged an exasperated look with Trowa.

"You two are competing in the Home Run Derby, aren't you?"

"Please, for the love of God, stop shouting!" Duo said, now leaning heavily against Heero and grimacing in pain.

"It isn't for another four hours," Heero said calmly and produced two bottles of water from somewhere. He thrust one at Duo, who scowled at the bottle but uncapped it and chugged it down.

"That makes… what, nearly a gallon?"

"Try two liters," Heero said after he finished off his own.

Trowa shook his head.

"Honestly, who thought it was a good idea for you two to become friends? Duo, how did you manage to corrupt the straightest, cleanest guy in baseball in one night?" Hilde asked as the six of them left the terminal and walked onto the street.

"I didn't corrupt him! He came this way! He's the one who knew all the great bars." Duo's protest was a mostly mumbled. He seemed to be concentrating on walking.

"I can't believe this, are you still drunk?!"

"It wouldn't surprise me. He finished off Manhattan's supply of Vodka last night," Heero commented dryly. He seemed to be better off than Duo, but was doing a bit of lurching himself.

"You certainly put a dent in it, too," Duo shot back.

"This is ridiculous," Quatre muttered, glaring at their backs.

Wufei chuckled.

"What are you so damn happy about, anyway?" Duo demanded, glaring at Wufei over his shoulder.

Wufei smiled down at Hilde, who grinned back up at him.

"Ew. I think I might be sick. Hilde, has he given you drugs or something? It isn't normal to look at a Yankee like that. Seriously, Hil, if he's poisoned you?"

"Duo, he hasn't done anything except treat me nicely. Something you should try sometime."

"Hmph." Duo narrowly avoided crashing into a streetlamp, saved at the last second by Heero grabbing him out of harm's way.

"This is ridiculous," Quatre repeated.

"Solo called to cancel on us last night. He said you had come down here early. Is everything okay?" Quatre asked.

Duo stopped for a second, then turned around and gave Quatre a look.

"He just called and canceled? He didn't say anything else?"

Quatre shook his head in a negative.

Duo laughed bitterly.

"Oh, everything's peachy keen."

"Duo – " Hilde started, but Duo glared at her.

"I'm sure he called you right away, huh?"

Hilde bit her lip instead of answering.

Trowa, Wufei, and Quatre looked between the two of them in confusion.

"What the hell is going on?" Quatre demanded.

"I need coffee," Heero suddenly said.

"Amen to that," Duo responded.

The two disappeared into the Starbucks conveniently located ten feet away.

Leaving Hilde to look up at Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei and try to look innocent.

* * *

Three coffees and three more liters of water later and Duo and Heero were nearly human.

In the hour it had taken to swallow that amount of liquid, and then to dispose of it, Quatre had asked Duo exactly seventeen times what had happened with him and Solo.

Finally, as Duo exited the bathroom in his hotel room only to find Quatre leaning against the jam and treating him to his most menacing look, Duo told him.

"He dumped me. Said we needed to think about what we needed, etcetera."

"Duo –"

The braided man held up a hand to forestall Quatre's comments.

"I'm cool, man. He's right, yanno. You can only be with one person for so long, I suppose. It was our time. Jesus, we spent half our lives together, and I'm only twenty-four!"

"Duo, stop pretending – "

"I'm not pretending. Seriously, between shots last night – the number of which I won't disclose – I thought about it. He's right. We were going nowhere. Time to move on."

"Duo – "

"Quatre, drop it. Please."

Duo looked ready to crack, the grin on his face so forced it was painful, and Quatre backed down.

"I can't believe you got drunk with Heero Yuy," he mumbled as he backed away and gave Duo some room.

"He's gay, apparently."

"This is news to you?"

Duo glared at Quatre.

"My gaydar is awful. Pitiful even."

Quatre nodded in agreement.

"Well… I better go and tell Trowa before he beats it out of Hilde."

Duo raised an eyebrow.

"On my orders, of course. Normally he doesn't care about what happens to you. Outside of you clogging the shower with your hair, anyway."

"You and he are all heart," Duo shot back as Quatre left his room.

Duo let his grin fade as soon as the door closed behind the blonde, and he argued with himself for five minutes before he finally gave in, sat on the hotel bed, and dialed Solo's cell phone number.

He didn't answer until the third ring, which Duo figured gave him enough time to recognize the number as a New York phone and decide that it must be him.

"Solo."

"Hey, it's me." Duo waited out Solo's silence, not an easy thing for him to do.

"Duo, this… isn't a good time."

Duo thought bitterly, when is it a good time to renegotiate a break-up?

"Who's that?" The voice was faint, but Duo heard it over the line. It was male, and it was unfamiliar.

"You asshole!" Duo shouted.

"Duo, this – "

"How long have you been dying to get rid of me? Must be awhile if you can just turn around and immediately jump into bed with someone else, huh?"

"Damn it, this isn't about sex."

"I hope not, I've never gotten any complaints from you. Or was that getting boring too?"

"What do you mean?" Solo sighed into the phone, obviously preparing himself for an argument.

Which pissed off Duo even more.

"You were bored, right? Just like in college, when you left. Except back then you admitted that was the reason you left. And now – what the hell, Solo?"

"Duo, we just need some time to think things over."

"Been doing a lot of thinking in between getting laid, have you?"

"Stop acting so damn immature."

"To hell with you, Solo!"

"Just hang up," the other voice said.

"Great idea," Duo muttered and slammed the receiver back against the cradle.

He paced his hotel room for several minutes, his anger building with each step, before he was so keyed up that he felt he would explode.

He grabbed his duffel bag and headed downstairs to the hotel lobby.

The concierge flagged down a cab and down clamored inside.

"Yankee Stadium," he growled at the driver.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Hilde asked her companions. She, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei were in seats behind home plate, watching the final round of the Home Run Derby.

All of the other players had been eliminated except for Heero, Duo, and Albert Pujols. While Heero, whose power numbers were always high, and Pujols had been crowd favorites for the Derby, Duo was a bit of a surprise. While the center fielder was a superb hitter, his power wasn't nearly as impressive as Pujols, Heero, or several other of the Derby players. But tonight he was hitting the ball with a vengeance. He had out-hit both Heero and Pujols – who were tied with twenty home runs – for a total of thirty six homeruns.

"It's like he's possessed," Trowa speculated.

"Or angry as hell," Quatre mused.

Wufei nodded at this assessment.

"He always hits better when he's angry. That's the risk of throwing inside on him. If you piss him off you better have a nasty pitch to throw, or he's gonna hit it out of the park," Wufei explained.

"I don't get it – he wasn't angry this afternoon when we talked," Quatre said.

Trowa shrugged.

"Who knows, but if he keeps this up he'll win MVP and Rookie of the Year."

The round finished when Duo hit a ball that fell short of the center field wall, and his home run campaign ended at thirty eight.

The crowd, though mostly New York natives who wanted a Yankee crowned, cheered Duo as he stepped onto the pitcher's mound and was presented the keys to a new BMW, a shiny blue convertible that had been wheeled out to the first base line for photo opps.

"He'll be completely insufferable now," Wufei predicted.

"No he won't. But he'll be a hell of a lot harder to intimidate," Trowa argued, clapping enthusiastically for his teammate.

Later, as they assembled by the Player's Entrance to wait for Heero and Duo to come out, Hilde grabbed Wufei's hand and asked, "What do you think about Ted Gehrig Chang?"

Wufei winced. "That's the worst name in the history of – no, not happening. What about Regina Jackson Chang?"

Hilde scowled.

"What are you guys talking about?" Quatre asked in amusement.

"Just names."

Duo and Heero came out, deep in some discussion, but stopped Duo stopped mid-sentence when he saw Hilde and Wufei holding hands. His eyes went wide and he started to laugh.

The others looked at him, confident he had lost his mind.

"Hilde, what are you going to name my nephew?" He demanded.

Hilde turned red as everyone turned to look at her and Wufei.

"Michaelina Mantle Chang," Wufei said with a straight face.

* * *

TBC…..

A/N: The names at the end are a combination of Yankees and Red Sox – Ted Williams, Lou Gehrig, Reggie Jackson, and of course Mickey Mantle.


	7. Chapter 7

Warnings: AU, yaoi, angst, violence, language.

A/N: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for the great reviews. I've really enjoyed getting feedback on this story and I'm so glad that you folks are enjoying it and keeping with it!

Out on Strikes 7/?

"This sucks," Hilde muttered as she surveyed the field. Her friends – and lover – were on the field warming up for the game that would begin in just under an hour. Hilde, forced to the sidelines, was sitting behind home plate alone. Quatre was on the field with much of the other press, waiting anxiously for a sound bite. When the game began, Quatre would join the rest of the press up in the press box – and Hilde would still be alone.

Though she enjoyed baseball, and especially enjoyed watching her guys play, she was anxious over her pregnancy and her future with Wufei. Last night, after the Home Run Derby and a celebratory dinner for Duo, she and Wufei had returned to his apartment and had spent several hours talking about their plans for the future, until Wufei finally insisted that he had to get some rest, or he would be no good for the game the next day.

After he had fallen asleep Hilde had wandered the apartment, finally going onto the balcony and sitting alone to survey the city that spread before her. She had always felt that New York was one giant organism that thrived on the chaos of its streets. Unlike Boston, which to her had always been a connected series of villages and neighborhoods. Somehow it felt less suffocating that New York, though no less alive and vibrant.

She knew Wufei wanted to remain in New York, and didn't begrudge him that desire, but she similarly did not want to leave her home. It was a problem they would have to soon face.

"All those wonderful men, don't you think that the male form is one of the most amazing creations?"

Hilde was jerked out of her reverie by the statement, which was directed at her by a blonde woman. Her companion, also blonde, was smiling down at Hilde.

"Are you one of the players wives?" The latter asked.

"Um, no. Are… you two?"

The first blonde laughed derisively.

"No way. I'm Dorothy Catalonia." She extended her hand to Hilde, who looked at it blankly.

"Oh, Doro, she doesn't know who you are!" The other blonde exclaimed.

Dorothy rolled her eyes.

"I gathered that, Relena. I'm a player's agent."

"Oh, which one?"

Relena laughed and Dorothy glared at her.

"I actually represent several players. Currently I represent twelve major league players – all of whom happen to be on the field in front of us." Dorothy gestured expansively at the field.

"Oh, wow."

"Care to guess who her boys are?" Relena asked. She had now settled in the chair Hilde's right, while Dorothy remained standing, still surveying the field.

"Um…"

"All the top prospects. Treize Khushrenada, Zechs Merquise, Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton, Wufei Chang – "

"You're Wufei's agent?"

Dorothy arched an eyebrow at her.

"You know Wufei?"

Hilde flushed, unsure how her response would be accepted by these two women.

She was saved when Quatre appeared.

"Ladies, I see you've met."

Relena jumped to her feet and hugged Quatre.

"Oh, it's been ages since I've seen you, Quatre! Daddy's been asking after you, he keeps hoping you'll come by when we're at Martha's and go for a sail…"

"Relena, you are looking well. You too, Doro." Quatre disengaged from Relena and kissed Dorothy on the cheek.

Dorothy looked at Quatre speculatively, as if deciding whether or not a conversation with him would be worth her time.

"You aren't giving Duo Maxwell enough press," she said at last.

Quatre chuckled.

"Always on the job, aren't you? Hilde, I take it these two have properly introduced themselves?"

Hilde nodded, looking between the three blondes in amusement. It was obvious the three were old acquaintances. Likely they had grown up together, from the familiar way they greeted each other.

"Actually, we're still waiting to find out who she is, exactly," Dorothy said.

"Hilde, of the Boston Police, is a close friend to Duo, Heero, Trowa, Wufei, and myself."

Dorothy's eyes narrowed as she looked Hilde over again. Relena gasped in surprise.

"Which one are you sleeping with?" Dorothy demanded.

"Doro, leave her alone," Quatre commanded.

"Is it serious?" Dorothy continued in her interrogation.

"It isn't Heero, is it?" Relena asked, biting her lip anxiously.

Hilde looked at Quatre, then at the other two women.

"Actually," she said as she rose to her feet and collected her jacket and purse, "I've been sleeping with all of them. I'm pregnant, you see, and I have no idea who the father is. I figure I'll wait till the end of the season and see who's made the biggest impression, and then force him into marrying me."

She left the three of them standing there, Quatre laughing loudly, Relena looking shocked and on the verge of tears, and Dorothy whipping out her cell phone.

* * *

Heero leaned against the dugout fence and watched Duo take another ball to make the count three and one. It was remarkable how his appreciation for Duo's skills improved when they were playing on the same team instead of against each other.

Duo was making the pitcher work hard to get him out – not that he had any intention of the letting that happen – and he was more patient at the plate that he made himself appear. There was a stillness to him that belied his frenzied attitude; Heero had not seen it before, but he was willing to bet it had been there all along.

Another pitch on the inside and Duo was trotting down to first base. With Ichiro already on second, and no one out, it was likely that Heero, batting forth, would have the chance to see the plate this inning. He made his way onto the on-deck circle and picked up a weighted donut and slid it onto his bat. He took several practice swings, stopping to watch Khushrenada's at-bat against Chris Carpenter.

Khushrenada struck out and Heero walked to the plate. It was his first at-bat in his first All-Star game. He was determined to make sure this was the first of many, but even so he wanted to savor it for a moment.

He had earned a spot among his peers as one of the elite. And he was playing in Yankee Stadium, which made it that much better.

Heero focused in on Carpenter and took up his batting stance, spreading his legs wide and bending his knees as he cocked his bat high over his right shoulder.

The first pitch sailed past him and the ump called it a strike.

The second pitch was outside, and Heero didn't even both to move his bat.

The third pitch was high, but Heero fouled it off behind home plate.

The forth pitch –

_Crack!_ The resonant connection of the bat with the ball felt nearly perfect and Heero watched the ball for a second on its long flight towards right field.

He circled the bases to the cheers of the fans – his fans – and the American League was up three to nothing.

At home plate Duo was waiting for him and gave him a high five as well as a slap on the ass.

Coming from anyone else it would have been completely benign, but coming from Duo, it made Heero's mind go into overdrive. Which was not where it needed to be in the middle of a game.

"Way to go, buddy," Duo said as they jogged back to the dugout. Heero was greeted with more high-fives – though most of the players refrained from following Duo's example. They were playing on the same team for one night only, after all, and there was no use in getting overly familiar.

Heero took a seat on the bench after grabbing a cup of water and Duo joined him.

"You keep that up and I'll have to kill you in your sleep," Duo mused.

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"You're coming back tonight? I thought you would want to stay in your hotel."

Duo shrugged.

"I wasn't referring to tonight – but the idea does have some merit. Aw, Heero, d'you miss me already?"

"Hn."

"Any plans for tonight, then?"

"None."

"Good. Quatre mentioned something about Dorothy having a thing at her place – think you can put up with the Bitch for long enough to have a good time?"

Heero shrugged.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. She's tough – don't get me wrong, though, I appreciate it come arbitration and re-signing. But you'll have a good time. It's just some of her clients – and Quatre, of course, but no other press. Just you New York types."

Alex Rodriguez hit into a double play soon after, and Duo and Heero headed out to the field.

As Heero crouched behind home plate, he couldn't shake the thought from his mind that Dorothy's party would be an excellent place to corner Duo and convince him to go home with Heero.

He was finally able to push all thoughts of Duo, sex, and parties from his mind as Santana glared down at him from the mound, waiting for Heero's signal.

* * *

Zechs Merquise couldn't decide who was a better target: Heero Yuy or Duo Maxwell. The two men had been on the balcony of Dorothy's apartment now for nearly twenty minutes. Occasionally Winner, Barton, or Chang had ventured out to join them, but all three men had floated back towards the other guests.

Why Maxwell and Yuy had sought out privacy was beyond Zechs. Especially when they were in the company of baseball's elite up-and coming players. Zechs scanned the room and spotted Treize Khushrenada admiring Dorothy's collection of Ming vases.

"No hard feelings?" He asked as he approached, referring to the pre-season trade that had sent Zechs from Seattle to Texas in a trade for Khushrenada.

Khushrenada glanced up and smirked.

"I thought you would be the one with hard feelings," the first baseman countered.

"Touché." Zechs saluted Khushrenada with his drink and then took a healthy sip from it.

"I couldn't help but notice you admiring this year's Rookie candidates," Khushrenada said, nodding in the direction of the balcony.

"They're fit for admiration," Zechs allowed.

"Indeed. I had heard a rumor though… about you and a certain Yankees catcher?"

Zechs shrugged gracefully.

"I'm surprised something so trivial could cause such speculation."

"Ah, so it's Maxwell you're interested in."

Zechs arched an eyebrow.

"And if I was?"

Khushrenada chuckled.

"You'll have a hard time, then."

"I plan on it."

Khushrenada chuckled again, the smooth, urbane sound grating on Zechs.

"I meant that you'll have to go through Yuy first."

Zechs smirked.

"Yuy is no match for me. He might be amazing on the field, but his skills off the field are no match for mine."

"I don't suppose you would care to wager on that?"

"What interest do you have in my affairs, Khushrenada?"

"Just an admirer," Khushrenada murmured.

"Hm. And what would this wager entail?"

"If you manage to win Maxwell then I won't tell him or Yuy how you tip your pitches."

Zechs' eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I do not tip my pitches."

"Maybe not to the inexperienced eye, but as soon as those two know what to look for, I guarantee you that your league-leading ERA won't be so low for long."

"And if I lose?"

"Then the next time you're in Seattle you will have dinner with me."

"Dinner?"

"And more, perhaps, if the mood strikes us."

Zechs looked Khushrenada over. The other man was as tall as Zechs, his darker hair cropped short and his face sculpted in the classical sense of male beauty.

It was an intriguing offer… and Zechs had always been a bit of a gambler.

"Very well then. I'll take your wager."

Treize smirked and then nodded towards the balcony.

"Here's your chance," he said before walking away.

Zechs looked up to see Maxwell alone on the balcony, talking into a cell phone. Yuy, he noticed, was now sitting with Winner and Barton, though he kept looking anxiously towards the balcony.

Winding his way through the crowd, Zechs was about to open the door to the balcony when Yuy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"Jealously doesn't suit you, Heero. If you aren't going to go after him, then step aside so that someone else can." Zechs shrugged the slightly shorter man off and opened the door. He closed it behind him, inches from Yuy's angry face, and turned to Maxwell.

The braided man was gripping the balcony rail with one hand and the cell phone with the other. He looked angry and incredibly sexy.

Zechs smirked. This was his kind of challenge.

* * *

Solo looked around the bar, at the other patrons who cheered as their local hero, Duo Maxwell, hit a home run in the ninth inning of the All-Star game. It was good to see Duo had so many fans, but the constant reminder of him was wearing on Solo. Too bad he was a fan of baseball, otherwise he could just leave and never look at another game again. But since he was a fan, he would sit and suffer in this bar while other men cheered on Duo. After all, it was better than going home to an apartment that was still filled with Duo's presence from the load of laundry in the dryer to shampoo in the shower.

"Solo Maxwell."

The voice was menacing and strangely familiar. Solo turned slowly to look at the man to his left. The face was pock-marked and an ugly scar ran along the man's jaw line.

Solo arched an eyebrow at him.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, there's a cat outside in a tree."

"Sorry, that's the fire department's job."

Solo turned back to his beer, but a meaty hand landed on his shoulder.

"This cat'll only come down for you, Maxwell."

Solo snorted. This analogy had gone far enough.

"You realize that harassing a member of the Boston Pol – "

"And you realize that some of us like to harass you pigs with knives and other things?"

"Right. Let's see about this cat of yours."

Solo pulled a five from his wallet and put it on the bar before following his new friend out of the bar.

Outside, predictably, there was a car waiting.

"Should I get in or has the cat fallen under the wheels?"

"Can the humor, pig, and get in."

Solo opened the door and stared inside the dark recesses of the car.

"You know, I don't really see how a cat could have gotten trapped inside – "

The last thing he felt was a heavy blow above his left eye.

* * *

"Look, sir, I understand your position on this issue. However, I have repeatedly said that – " Duo looked up to see that Zechs Merquise had joined him on the balcony.

"No sir, I understand. Yes, sir, we can continue this conversation on Monday."

Duo snapped the cell phone shut and shoved in back in the pocket of his jeans, wishing instead that he could throw it at the skyscraper across from the balcony.

"Management issues?" Zechs asked.

Duo looked over at the pitcher, wondering why Zechs was bothering to talk to him.

"Something like that. They think my hair's getting too long. Want me to trim it."

Zechs made a 'tsk' sound.

"It would be a shame to cut your hair," he said, coming closer to Duo.

"You're telling me."

"How have you found your first season to be?"

"A few more inside pitches than I expected," Duo muttered, glaring over at Zechs, who had pitched inside to Duo on more than one occasion.

"Perhaps you should learn to stand farther away from the plate. If you ever need a few pointers, I would be happy to lend you my experience…"

Duo suddenly realized why it was that Zechs had come out to talk to him.

"Right. Well, as much as I appreciate the offer, I just got out of a, um, experience-lending situation and I'm not too eager to get involved in another one."

Zechs shrugged elegantly.

"There's no reason it has to be more than the occasional tip, I doubt you would require constant coaching."

Zechs had moved closer during this last, so that he breathed the words against Duo's neck.

It took Duo a moment to remember how to breathe again.

"Perhaps we could practice your technique?"

"My technique?" Duo managed to keep his voice steady, despite the fact that Zechs' fingers were now trailing down his spine.

"Of leaning into a pitch." Zechs smirked down at him and slowly withdrew his hand.

Duo instantly missed the feel of the taller man's fingers.

"Or perhaps you've found someone else to share tips with?" Zechs nodded at Heero, who was steadily glaring at them from the other side of the window.

Duo moved away from Zechs, jolted by the look in Heero's eyes.

"Actually, the way he looks right now, I kinda wonder if maybe you two don't have something worked out?" Duo looked back at Heero.

Zechs chuckled.

"You have to be blind not to realize that Yuy has been drooling over you all season."

"Yuy? Heero Yuy? Most days the guy can barely stand me – I don't know why you think he likes me, much less drools over me."

"It doesn't really matter to me – it's you I am propositioning, not him."

"Oh, so this is some kind of proposition?" Duo grinned at Zechs who merely scowled.

"Don't tell me you're that blind."

"No, it was a joke. I was trying to be ironic." Duo shrugged, suddenly the flare of attraction he had felt for Zechs was fading.

"Hm."

"Look, I appreciate the offer to, um, help me out, but I think I'm just going to call it a night." Duo made a speedy escape from the balcony before Zechs could respond.

Heero was still glaring at him from inside the apartment.

"Sorry, dude, I didn't realize you were into him," Duo apologized as he walked by.

He missed the confused look on Heero's face.

Dorothy stopped him by the door.

"Duo, are you leaving so soon?"

"Yeah, I figure I'll try and catch a train back up to Boston tonight, you know, instead of leaving early tomorrow."

Dorothy studied his face for a moment before nodding.

"You did well tonight, Duo. And you've been playing great all season."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared, Doro!"

She gave him a withering look.

"Of course I care. The better you play the more leverage we have to force the Sox to renegotiate your contract."

Duo held up a hand.

"Please, no cut throat logic tonight."

Dorothy smirked and looked over his shoulder.

"Heero, I take it that you are leaving as well?"

"Yes."

Duo started to leave the two of them without saying anything to Heero, but a hand grabbed his arm.

"Wait. I'll share a cab with you."

"Sure."

Duo waited outside for Dorothy to give Heero another pep talk. When the catcher joined him in the hallway, his expression was guarded as he looked at Duo.

"Look, I'm sorry about Zechs – you told me you were gay but you didn't say anything about being involved. I –"

"Duo, stop talking."

"What – look – "

"Duo, stop right now or I'll be forced to take action."

"Um, I don't really know what this is about anymore, but –"

Heero closed the distance between them in two strides. He put one hand on the back of Duo's head and tugged him forward.

"Once again, I – "

"Last warning."

"Warning of what? Yuy are you - umph!" Duo's mouth was suddenly crushed by Heero's.

It took Duo a second to process what exactly was happening, and by that time he could feel Heero's tongue teasing his lips, gently forcing them open. Duo relented, relaxing his mouth and allowing Heero entrance.

When Heero's tongue touched his he felt a jolt of pure lust and grabbed the other man. Duo pushed Heero back against the wall, pinning him as he explored Heero's mouth and savored his taste.

Someone moaned and then Duo felt the hand at the back of his head move downward until it was clutching a fistful of his hair. Heero gave a sharp tug, pulling Duo face away and freeing him to lick and kiss his way down Duo's throat.

Heero bit into the flesh at the base of Duo's neck and the braided man cried out.

The door to Dorothy's apartment opened and Duo and Heero jumped apart.

Quatre looked out at them.

"What are you two doing? Are you fighting again? Seriously, I thought you had put that behind you. Can't you get along for two minutes on your own? You seemed fine the other night when – "

"Sorry to disturb the party, Q, we'll just be going now!" Duo grabbed Heero and tugged him towards the elevator.

"Just don't kill each other!" Quatre called after them before slamming the door closed.

As the elevator doors opened Duo risked looking over at Heero.

Heero was looking at him in such a way that Duo wondered if maybe he had become a bottle of water and Heero was very, very thirsty.

Duo swallowed hard as Heero approached him. The catcher reached out and pushed one of the elevator buttons – Duo had no idea which one, and wasn't really bothered by the thought that they could be going anywhere but the lobby – and then grabbed Duo again.

"Now where were we?" Heero asked, his lips inches from Duo's.

"Oh, yes, now I remember." Heero nipped at Duo's neck again and the braided man nearly came then.

* * *

"I've been thinking," Quatre said.

Trowa, who was absently tracing patterns on Quatre's stomach as the two lay in bed, glanced over at the blonde.

"Dangerous thing, that," he commented dryly.

"Like I always say, I enjoy taking risks. Anyway, I've been thinking about resigning from propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Quatre.

"Why?"

"My agent got back to me, and Random House wants to publish my book, so – "

"Wait, you've been working on a book?"

"Well, it's been at the editor's for the last month, but, yeah, I have been."

"And you were going to tell me when, exactly?"

"Now?"

"Right." Trowa rolled away from Quatre and sat up, the sheets pulling around his hips.

Quatre reached out to him, but as soon as his fingers touched Trowa's back the pitcher stood.

"Trowa – why is this such a big deal?"

The tall man turned around, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

"Quatre, have you and Duo slept together?"

"Wha- what?!"

"I'm just wondering how long this has been going on."

"What's been going on? Trowa, what are you talking about?"

"How many ball players have you slept with, Quatre? Am I number ten – or maybe twenty, or twenty five? That would give you a full roster, you know. Unless you're aiming for forty."

"Trowa, I don't understand what you're talking about."

"And I don't understand how you could keep something this important from me."

"The book? It just… slipped my mind."

"Right, because our conversations are so witty that you usually forget something you've been meaning to tell me."

"Trowa – "

"The only thing that seems to make sense is that you forgot to tell me because you didn't think it would be important to me. Because, after all, why would the cabana boy care about his master's other pursuits?"

A muscle in Trowa's jaw clenched and he shook his head.

"This was just about sex wasn't it? Just about sex with a Red Sox pitcher. You know, I wondered why you didn't introduce me to Relena as your boyfriend. And I wondered why you didn't push the issue of coming out more, and I wondered how you always managed to stay so objective in your articles about me. It's because I don't really matter, isn't it? It's easy for you to compartmentalize me – I'm just the guy that you sleep with and occasionally deign to be seen in public with, right?"

"Trowa, it isn't like that at all! I don't, I don't understand where this is coming from!" Quatre started to get out of the bed.

"Don't. Stay where you are, Quatre. Right now I really don't want you near me."

"But, Trowa, I –"

"Quatre, do you love me?"

"Trowa, I –"

"Yes or no. It's a very simple question."

"Trowa, we've only been seeing each other for three months, and half that time we aren't even together, I don't – "

"I'm going to take that as a no, then. If you're curious, my answer would have been yes."

Trowa grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, unhurried, still looking steadily at Quatre.

As he next buttoned his shirt Quatre tried again.

"Trowa, it isn't that I don't love you, I mean, I just don't know yet. It isn't something I can just fall into, you know?"

Trowa gave a derisive snort.

"Okay, here's another one then. How long after you met Duo before you two were best friends? Did it take longer than three months, too?"

"Trowa, that isn't the same thing! This is totally different! I – "

"How long, Quatre?" Trowa was nearly shouting, as close to losing control of himself as Quatre had ever seen him.

"Trowa."

"Goodbye, Quatre."

TBC……

* * *

a/n: yes, yes I am this evil. 


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for the reviews!

Indeed yes, Solo will soon die… but not immediately. As for Trowa being OOC – noticed that, did you? I wonder why he was?... and, as requested, a chapter that focuses more on Quatre and Trowa – though it isn't exclusively about them, I still have to throw in the others!

Also, I really have had the Yankees and the Red Sox play each other too much… so, this series and then maybe one more, will be it before we get to the post-season!

* * *

Out on Strikes 8/?

Trowa stared at the ceiling above his bed for ten minutes before he decided the sight would make him go insane. He next moved into the bathroom where he tried to count the tiles on both the floor and the ceiling, eventually he wound up back in the unfamiliar hotel bed, staring at the ceiling again. He was filled with a sort of bitter satisfaction as he watched the sun rise outside of his windows. He had successfully managed to spend most of the night not thinking about Quatre. Only twice had his concentration broken. The first was when Quatre himself called around midnight. The second time had been when Catherine called him at two a.m. to say that her flight had been delayed and she would be in later that morning – and would she finally get to meet Quatre?

He waited until the digital alarm on the night table read six a.m. and then picked up his cell phone, pressing nine on the speed dial.

After two rings she answered.

"This is Dorothy."

"It's done."

"Good. Now, I realize you're still too close to it right now, so this won't make much sense to you, but this is for the best. Dating Winner will get you no where except on a tabloid page. Not to mention the flack you would get from the other press. I really can't believe you were seeing him and didn't tell me! As your agent, I really – "

"Dorothy, I don't care."

"Well, I'm glad you trusted me on this, Trowa. I hope your trip back to Boston is safe and play well tonight against the Yankees."

Trowa didn't feel the need to comment and so snapped his phone shut and set it back on the night stand.

Catherine would be arriving at eleven, last she had heard, and he would need to pick her up at the airport.

Which gave him five hours alone to continue to concentrate on not thinking about Quatre.

He walked over to the closet and pulled out his running shoes, then went to the bureau to don a t-shirt and warm-up pants.

Running always helped to clear his mind, but somehow he doubted it would be very successful this morning.

The last time he ran, Quatre had stayed the night and insisted he go with Trowa. The blonde, who was in decent shape, had only made it four miles before demanding a reprieve. They had rested at a park bench for nearly thirty minutes, trading childish insults over who was weaker.

It had been –

Damnit. He had gone nearly six hours without thinking about him.

* * *

They managed to make it to the bed. Well, at least the bedroom. Then it became a jumble of clothes and limbs, and the necessity of something soft was forgotten on both of them.

"Jesus, Heero, that feels good. Don't stop – oh, okay, that feels better."

Heero smirked up at Duo, at his flushed face and hazy eyes. He liked the braided man much better in this position. He was far less annoying after his pants were off, Heero decided.

Duo caught the shift in Heero's attention and looked at him suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" He demanded.

"How much better I like you when you're naked," Heero responded as he placed a series of kisses leading from Duo's neck down to his naval.

"Oh, really? Well, ditto, Yuy." Duo flipped them over and straddled Heero's hips, pushing against Heero's erection with his own and savoring the groan that action elicited.

"I think something's being neglected," Duo murmured, glancing downward.

Heero couldn't think of anything particularly witty to say, and when Duo's mouth closed around him all coherent thought left him.

* * *

Quatre managed to wait two hours before he called Trowa. Long enough, he figured, for Trowa to make it home, but not long enough fro Trowa to have gone to sleep. He knew how keyed up arguments made Trowa, from the handful they had had in the past, and he knew it was doubtful Trowa would sleep at all that night.

Trowa answered on the forth ring. Picked up the phone actually, for he said nothing and only the fact that there was no more ringing cued Quatre into the fact that Trowa had received the call.

"Trowa, I – I don't understand what just happened. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the book, but you know it isn't because I don't care for you. I do! I really do, I just… I'm not really ready to say that I love you yet. And it isn't you! It's me, really, and I'm sorry Trowa. Can we – "

"Quatre, don't call me again." And then he hung up.

The phone fell from his fingers and clattered onto the floor. He honestly had not expected Trowa to already be so closed off from him. He had not expected the argument in the first place – much less, this…

It was twenty minutes later that the phone rang, and Quatre scrambled for it immediately, not even bothering to look at the caller ID before he answered.

"Trowa – "

"Quatre? It's Relena."

"Relena? It's after midnight. Is something wrong?"

"No, I just… wanted to see if you wanted to get a drink."

"It's after midnight, Relena."

"Well, the bars won't close until – "

"Relena, it's still late to be going out."

"Quatre, is something wrong? You sound so sad."

"I'm just tired, Relena. Remember, it's after midnight?"

"Oh. Well, if you want me to let you go?"

"Yes. I'll try and call you next week and maybe we could meet for a drink then – sometime before midnight."

"Okay, if you're sure everything is fine?"

"Yes. Goodnight, Relena."

Quatre hung up the phone and collapsed back onto the bed. Relena was a trial at the best of times, but under these circumstances going out with her would likely end in Quatre saying something he would regret.

He looked at the rumpled sheets where, hours before, Trowa had been. Quatre still couldn't understand where the fight had sprung from. He had not meant to keep the book from Trowa – he wasn't really trying to keep it from him, he had just forgotten to mention it.

But why would Trowa jump to so many conclusions? It wasn't like him to do that. Or maybe it was and Quatre just hadn't realized it?

Quatre felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach.

Trowa had gotten upset when he mentioned resigning from Maybe this wasn't about the book at all. Maybe Trowa was worried that he would lose Quatre's support in the media?

Had Trowa –

Quatre stopped that line of thought, angry with himself that he would even begin to suspect of Trowa dating him only for the media coverage.

But what else could explain his sudden irrational behavior?

* * *

Wufei woke up to find Hilde gone, a note on the pillow saying that she had to get back to work and a promise to call him tonight when she got off.

He placed the note on top of the dresser and stared down at her handwriting. It was small and neat, delicate, just as she seemed to be. But Wufei knew there was a strength about Hilde the belied her fragile appearance.

Still, every thought and every fear that had surfaced when she first mentioned her pregnancy returned whenever he looked at her.

He couldn't help but think of Meilin, of her agonized face as their daughter was born, or the gray color of her skin as the doctors pushed him from the delivery room.

It was a nightmare he had never been able to escape, and now he felt as thought he were reliving it. No longer would it haunt his dreams, he would once again be forced to watch the woman he loved in such pain. He would again feel such despair at losing her.

The morbid thoughts were nearly crippling him and he snarled in anger at his own weakness. He was being a coward, allowing himself to already accept what fate would decree before it had even happened. By not allowing himself to hope he closed off the anguish that came with loss.

But he would have to be strong now, for Hilde and for himself. He would not abandon her.

He pulled on his normal exercise clothes and headed down to his building's gym. It was a luxury, having a gym in an apartment, but one that Wufei had allowed himself because it made it easier to train in the off-season. It was also away from the prying eyes of teammates and trainers, and Wufei could adopt the strictest regime he chose here. Here he could push himself beyond his endurance and not have to worry about recrimination.

* * *

Trowa was amazed that Catherine had lasted as long as she had. When he met her at LaGuardia she had thrown herself at him and spent the cab write to Grand Central talking non-stop, filling him in on the circus, relating meaningless anecdotes. It was almost as if she knew already that he didn't want to talk.

But when they arrived at Grand Central and she looked around, obviously searching for Quatre, Trowa knew he was in for it.

"Trowa, where's this Quatre of yours? I thought he was going to meet us here."

"Change of plans, it's just going to be me and you riding up."

"Trowa… did you two have a fight?" Catherine's green eyes narrowed as she looked at Trowa.

"We broke up," Trowa said, readjusting his bag and walking towards their train.

Catherine was a moment in catching up, and then distracted by finding their seats. But as the train pulled away from the station, she had managed to regain her footing.

"Trowa, I don't understand. I thought – you said you wanted me to meet him. I thought, that, well, you've never wanted me to meet anyone you dated before. You've actually gone out of your way to keep them from me. And – I'm rambling. Trowa, what happened?"

"He didn't feel the same way about me, apparently," Trowa said softly. Which was, strictly speaking, the truth. Trowa knew that if Quatre had said that he loved him then he wouldn't have been able to go through with it. There was no way he would do that to Quatre, but the fact that the blonde hadn't been able to say those words… it had eased the burden a fraction, enough so that Trowa had managed to force out the angry words. Even so, he felt like a coward and the worst kind of person for giving in to Dorothy's advice. He knew he had hurt Quatre badly, but he had also hurt himself. Nonetheless, he knew that Dorothy was right: dating Quatre was simply too dangerous. It could too easily ruin both of them.

"Oh, Trowa…" Catherine reached out to him and squeezed his hand. Trowa felt even worse for accepting her sympathy. He didn't deserve it.

* * *

Heero's alarm was set for five a.m., which, in Duo's mind, was too early for even God to be awake. He managed to duck his head and avoid the fist that Heero aimed at the offending machine, and was pleasantly surprised to feel Heero curl tightly against him, muttering under his breath as he wrapped his arms around Duo.

It was comical to imagine that the grumpy, sleeping man currently spooning with him was his enemy. It was also a bit disconcerting. Because, no matter how easy they got along off the field, they were playing a game against in each other in twelve hours.

Duo, who had never been able to go back to sleep once awake, lay in Heero's arms and slowly started to panic. What exactly had last night meant to Heero? What the hell had it meant to Duo? Was it a one night stand or was it leading to something more? Which one did Duo want it to be? Was there still a chance for him and Solo?

'To hell with Solo,' he thought angrily. But…

"Stop," Heero's voice commanded.

Duo started. Hadn't he been asleep?

"You're thinking too loud, it woke me up," Heero said, almost as if reading Duo's thoughts. It was creepy.

"Um…"

"I'm not going to ask you to move in," Heero said, breath hot against Duo's neck as he readjusted, snuggling his face against Duo's shoulders.

Duo didn't know whether or not he was relieved. So it had been just a one night stand.

"But you are going to take me out to dinner tonight after we beat you," Heero growled.

"Ah. Um, and when you lose?"

"That won't happen. But if, by some strange coincidence of fate our pitching staff dies on the mound and you manage to win, I'll still be expecting dinner. And maybe an invitation to stay the night."

"But you don't want to come over if you win?"

"I assume you'll be too busy sulking," Heero explained and Duo could feel him grinning.

Duo grabbed a pillow and swatted Heero with it.

The Japanese man grunted and rolled, so that he had Duo pinned underneath him.

"I can tell that you aren't going to go back to sleep," he said, looking down at Duo with a smirk.

"Not a chance, Yuy. Once I'm up, I'm up."

"Good, then we can go for a run before you have to leave."

Duo considered it. He had never had a steady running partner – Solo was usually at work too early and on weekends enjoyed having a bit of a lay in.

"Five miles? Since we've got a game tonight?"

"Sounds good. I've got some sweats you can borrow."

* * *

Quatre was at Fenway Park at three, pathetically early even by his own standards. Which was early enough to see the Yankees warming up, but too early to catch the Red Sox.

He watched the men in grey and navy with a critical eye, easily picking out Heero and Wufei, who were sprinting side by side.

"You're here a bit early, aren't you?"

Quatre looked over to where Dorothy stood by the visitor's dugout, obviously just arrived from the locker room.

He frowned at her.

"Why are you here? I didn't realize you had taken such a keen interest in these two teams."

Dorothy rolled her eyes.

"Everyone has a keen interest in these two teams, Quatre. But I'm here to watch that new kid pitch."

"Oh. Trant?"

"Yes. If he's any good I'll be sitting down with him soon and convince him he needs me to represent him."

Brian Trant had been called up from the Yankees' Triple-A team last week when starter Mike Mussina had been injured. The rookie would be pitching tonight against the Red Sox in his Major League debut.

"Oh, and Quatre, I wanted to tell you that I was sorry."

"Sorry?"

"About you and Trowa…"

Quatre was speechless for a moment. How had she known?

"He told me, you know." She said after a moment, sighing dramatically. "Poor Quatre. You've always liked his type."

Quatre raised his eyebrows in confusion.

" His type?"

"You know, good-looking, athletic, famous…"

"I don't know what the hell you're implying, Dorothy, but I'm pretty sure this conversation is over."

Dorothy smirked at him.

"Oh, Quatre! You are so priceless when you're angry!" She laughed and walked off, whipping out her cell phone as she went.

Quatre stood there for a full five minutes, fuming, until Heero jogged over to him.

"You okay?" Heero asked in between gulping down Gatorade.

"Um, yeah." Quatre looked over Heero, noticed that aside from a mark on his neck that he looked unscathed.

"It seems Duo didn't kill you after all," he mused.

"Kill me?"

"Last night, you two were fighting in the hall? I wonder how he hit you to leave a bruise on your neck, though? It's in a really weird place…"

"Hn." For some reason Heero flushed red and then walked off.

Wufei came over next.

"Winner, what the hell is wrong with you?" He said by way of greeting.

Quatre frowned, was he really that obvious?

"Shouldn't you be mixing with the players, trying to get a story out of us?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Wanna talk to me about how it feels to be facing the Red Sox for the next to last time in the regular season? After tonight you'll have nearly two months before you have to face them for the final three games of the season."

Wufei smirked.

"That's more like it. I'm eager to strike out their lineup in the ninth inning, though I doubt I'll be needed since the future AL Rookie of the Year, Heero Yuy, will no doubt have hit several home runs by then and our newest pitcher, Brian Trant, will pitch exceptionally."

"Okay, great. Thanks. Ah, Wufei, what are your plans with Hilde?"

"For tonight?"

"Well, in general."

"I plan on convincing her to marry me. Why? Are you going to give me the same "hurt her and I'll kill you speech" that both Maxwells have already given me?"

"When did you talk to Solo?"

"He left me a voicemail. How he managed to track down my number, I don't know."

"He's a cop."

"Exactly. Which is the only reason why I won't press charges for invading my privacy."

Quatre smirked.

"That and you'll find yourself spending the night in jail every time you play in Boston."

Wufei sniffed in disgust.

"Hilde would never allow that."

Quatre laughed and waved him away.

"Keep warming up, I don't want to be accused of sabotaging you."

Quatre watched as Wufei jogged off and then breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell anyone about Trowa, but he was relieved when neither Heero or Wufei had pushed him to find out what was wrong.

* * *

Trowa couldn't help but look towards the press box as he stood on the first base line for the national anthem.

The stadium lights were a harsh glare that prevented him from seeing clearly, but he imagined he could see a blond head up there, furiously scribbling notes.

"Dude, the flag's that way," Duo nudged him.

Trowa focused his attention back on the outfield just as the song reached its finale.

"What's up with you, anyway?" Duo asked as they walked onto the field, towards the pitcher's mound.

"Nothing," Trowa said, a bit more harshly than he had wanted to.

Duo gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't convinced.

"Look, now's obviously a bad time – what with the need to crush the Yankees and all – but if you wanna talk later?"

"My sister's in town. And I'm fine anyway. It's Quatre you'll want to – " Trowa realized he had said too much and instantly regretted his slip as Duo's face darkened.

"What the hell happened?" Duo took a menacing step towards Trowa.

"None of your damn business, now get to the outfield so we can do our jobs." Trowa refused to back down and glared at Duo until the braided man turned and angrily jogged away.

Trowa threw a few pitches to warm up, both pleased and angry to see that his control was still perfect despite how upset he was.

All too soon he had struck out the top of the Yankees batting order and was heading to the dugout.

He wasn't at all surprised that Duo grabbed his arm as they headed to the dugout.

"If you hurt him – " the braided man started.

"I did," Trowa said, glaring back at Duo.

That seemed to temporarily deflate him.

"What happened?" He repeated, teeth gritted together.

"We broke up."

"Why?"

Trowa figured he might as well tell the truth now and avoid putting it off. He played on the same team as Duo, after all, and it would be a lot harder to avoid him than it was to avoid Quatre.

"We don't feel the same way about each other." Trowa knew he was being purposefully ambiguous, and a part of him hoped that Duo would take exception and start a fight.

But the braided man just grimaced, dropped his glove, picked up his batting gear, and left Trowa to his own self-pity.

* * *

Duo was angrily muttering to himself as he approached the plate, but as soon as he saw Heero he started to smirk.

Heero, meanwhile, was remembering how good it had felt to wake up with Duo that morning. The braided man fit against him just right, soft and hard in all the right places, and it had felt as if he was sleeping with his other self this morning. As if he was finally whole.

He pushed those thoughts from his head as soon as Duo stepped up to the plate, still smirking at Heero.

"Loser buys?" Duo offered.

Heero snorted.

"I don't care. It's your money."

"Whatever, Yuy. Evening Roger – how's the wife?" Duo turned to greet the umpire, who shot him a glare.

"Let's keep it civil tonight, gentlemen. We've made it all season without incident so far."

Duo shot him an innocent look.

"What makes you think I would start any trouble?" He demanded, before grinning and getting into his batting stance.

Heero heard Roger snort in amusement before he pulled his mask down and crouched behind the plate.

On the mound Trant nodded at his signal and went into his windup.

Duo fouled off the pitch, and then two more before Trant threw two balls. Reluctantly, Heero headed out to the mound to try and calm down the rookie pitcher.

"What's up?" He asked as soon as he got to the mound.

Trant was glaring at the plate, probably at Duo; Heero did not turn to look.

"Nothing."

"Trant. It's me and you out here, if something's up, I need to know. Otherwise, just throw the damn ball on the outside of the plate and strike him out already."

Trant looked down at Heero and grunted.

Jogging back to the plate, Heero hoped the talk had worked to settle the pitcher, but wouldn't be surprised if his next pitch was hit out of the park. He thought that Trant was still too green to be pitching in this game, but he understood the need for the rookie with Mussina injured.

"I hope everything's okay," Duo said as Heero crouched down again.

"Shut up, Maxwell," Heero returned.

Duo grinned and once again hefted his bat over his right shoulder and stared out at Trant.

"Fuckin' A!" Duo grunted as he dropped his bat and clutched his side where Trant's pitch had collided with him.

"Don't lean over the plate so damn much," Heero told him.

"I wasn't that time!" Duo said angrily as he limped to first base.

Heero was genuinely concerned for his rival/lover. That pitch had been a fastball, probably close to 100 mph, and had hit Duo in the ribs. It had to hurt like hell.

He looked out at the mound and was disturbed to see Trant smirking in satisfaction.

* * *

Catherine winced as Trowa's first pitch of the next inning hit Heero Yuy in the leg. The crowd jeered Yuy as he limped down to first base, but the umpire was yelling at Trowa and issuing a warning to both the Red Sox and the Yankees pitching.

Catherine knew the pitch had been intentional. Several years ago, watching Trowa pitch in college, Catherine had seen a similar incident – where a member of Trowa's team had been hit by a pitch and then Trowa had purposefully hit the next batter of the opposing team. After the game she had berated him for it and he had calmly listened to her rant before explaining to her why he had done it. It wasn't about revenge, necessarily, but about protecting his teammates. If an opposing pitcher was trying to throw inside on purpose, then by throwing inside at that team as well, Trowa was giving the message that he wouldn't tolerate it. It was intended to even things up and keep the other pitcher from injuring Trowa's teammates. In Catherine's experience if often resulted in the teams brawling in the seventh or eighth innings.

She hoped tonight would be different. She was so proud of Trowa – his first season in the majors and he was undefeated with ten wins going into tonight's game. If only their parents had still been alive – they would have been so proud of him.

The rest of the inning went without incident, and when the Yankees pitcher, Trant, didn't hit another Red Sox player the next inning, Catherine relaxed.

Maybe there wouldn't be a fight after all.

* * *

It was the bottom of the seventh inning, the game still tied at zero, and Duo was up to bat once again.

He managed to keep himself focused on the pitcher and not on Heero – which was fairly difficult since he knew what Heero looked like under that hideous uniform now – only to find himself being aimed at again. Trant's first pitch was inside, just barely missing Duo.

"Hey, Yuy, how's about telling this kid how to pitch?" Duo demanded. After his first at bat he had been to the plate only one other time, and had hit the first pitch right to second base and been thrown out. He wasn't too keen on getting thrown at again.

"Why don't you step away from the plate," Heero shot back grumpily.

"Gentlemen," the umpire warned.

The next pitch was also close, and if Duo hadn't snapped his bat around to hit the ball it probably would have hit his wrists. The ball wound up in the stands behind home plate, and Duo angrily prepared to hit again.

"I swear to God, Yuy, if he comes in on me again – "

"Just play the game, Maxwell."

The next pitch was also inside, glancing off Duo's jersey, but the umpire called it a ball instead of a 'hit-by-pitch.'

While Duo was busy cursing Trant, Heero jogged out to the mound and had a brief conference with the rookie pitcher.

On his way back Duo caught sight of the grim look on Heero's face.

"Well, shit," Duo muttered as he once again adopted his batting stance. That look could only mean two things – either Trant was getting tired and needed to be pulled fast, or he was planning on hitting Duo.

It turned out to be the second.

The ball came at his head so fast that Duo didn't even have the chance to duck. He fell to the ground, momentarily dazed.

As soon as he blinked against the dull pain, however, he was back up on his feet, charging the mound and shouting obscenities.

Heero was instantly blocking his way, catcher's mask pushed back on his head so that Duo could clearly see his expression.

"Duo –"

"I'm gonna hurt that little fucker, Heero. I wasn't even blocking the plate! That was fucking uncalled for and –"

"You aren't getting near him," Heero said, deadly serious.

Duo glared at Heero, then pushed past him and stormed towards Trant, who was holding his ground and smirking confidently.

Strong hands grabbed Duo's shoulders and tried to pull him back, but Duo turned and threw his fist in the direction of his attacker.

Heero faltered, rubbing his jaw, before he threw himself at Duo again.

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Watching from the press box, Quatre shook his head and looked between the field and the tv suspended in front of him, which offered a close-up of the brawl taking place.

By now, ten minutes into the fight, field security had waded into the fray and were trying to break it up. Heero and Duo were still going at each other, though Wufei had arrived from the bullpen and was fighting to push the two apart. The rest of the players on both teams were also in the fray, pushing and throwing random punches. On the outside of the crush of players, Quatre spotted Brian Trant, the cause of all this, smirking. And then he spotted Trowa advancing towards the other pitcher.

"Oh God," Quatre whispered, sinking down in his chair as he prepared for the two to start another fight. But, to his surprise, after Trowa grabbed Trant the Yankees pitcher pulled free and ran away, running towards the bullpen as fast as he could.

Around the press-box, other reporters pointed at the fleeing pitcher and started to laugh. Someone relayed the message to the tv crews, who focused first on the cowardly Trant, and then on Trowa, who had a disgusted look on his face as he turned back to the main brawl and went after Duo, hauling the center fielder away from Heero, who was now held back by Wufei.

Quatre looked at them as the camera focused on the foursome. Both Duo and Heero were bloodied, having managed to land several hits on each other. Quatre was surprised – baseball fights were notorious for being wimpy: usually players managed to get a slap or shove in. Occasionally gloves, hats, or bats were thrown. But rarely were the players able to go as much damage as Heero and Duo seemed to have done.

Both Wufei and Trowa were unscathed, though the Chinese man looked furious and ready to kill as he glared towards the bullpen, where his teammate was hiding from Trowa.

It was a few more minutes before order was restored on the field. The umpires conferenced for a few minutes before they decided which players to eject for starting the fight.

Duo, Heero, and Trowa were all thrown out.

"What the hell?" A reporter from the Boston Globe demanded angrily. "What did Barton do? And why the hell don't they throw out that stain Trant? He started the damn thing!"

"Pipe down!" Another reporter shouted at him.

Quatre had already grabbed his bag, hurriedly packing away his laptop and notes. He rushed from the press box down to the ground level and stood waiting out front of the player's entrance.

He didn't have to wait too long: thirty minutes later a grim three-some approached him.

Both Heero and Duo were covered in cuts that had been dressed with band-aids and there were red places on both their faces that would likely be bruised in the morning. They were also leaning heavily on each other and limping slightly. Quatre bit his lip to keep from laughing at the sight, but when he looked at Trowa he sobered quickly at his expression.

"Trowa –"

"Trowa! I can't believe they threw you out! Those bastards!"

From out of nowhere a brunette woman appeared and immediately latched onto Trowa's arm, dragging him away from the others and towards the street, in the direction of Trowa's apartment. She glared at Quatre as she walked past, and he took a step backwards at the hatred in her eyes.

"Whoa. She's intense, whoever she is." Duo said, coming up beside Quatre and staring after the two.

"Hn."

"Quatre, Trowa said that you two broke up but he didn't really explain anything. Do you want to talk?" Duo looked concerned, but also somewhat dazed and distant.

"Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow after the game you and I could grab a bite to eat?" Quatre offered.

"Sounds great. Meet me in the locker room after the game?"

Quatre nodded and waved them away.

He watched them walk away, noticing the casual way that Duo threw an arm around Heero's shoulders, only to be pushed away. He tried it again and this time was not pushed away.

Quatre couldn't help but grin, happy that those two seemed to be able to remain friends off the field.

Now if only he could figure out how to get Trowa back. But first, he had to figure out how the hell he had lost him.

* * *

TBC…. 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm so glad that I could turn some of you onto baseball – even if it is just the kind that I write about. Though, to be honest, some of the real stuff is way cooler than I make it. Thank you so much for all the reviews! It really inspires me to keep up with this fic and get the chapters out quicker.

Out on Strikes 9/?

Duo sat in one of the hotel chair's, looking over at the bed where Heero was still sleeping. He was sleeping on his stomach, the sheets tangled low on his hips, one hand clutching at the pillow where an hour ago Duo's head had been.

It was odd and disconcerting for Duo to wake up in bed with someone other than Solo. He had, after all, spent nearly his entire life with Solo – first as something more friends, but less than brothers, and then later on as lovers. Duo was used to the feel of Solo's lean, lanky form pressed against his back. Heero was slightly shorter than Solo – though still tall – and more compact. It was different – and Duo couldn't decide if it was a good different or a bad different.

He realized that, Heero being only the third man he had had sex with made this whole situation strange. Duo had never been interested in anyone besides Solo, except for one time during college, the semester when Solo was in Paris. Duo had been very drunk and the whole encounter had been very disturbing and not in the least enjoyable. Heero, on the other hand, was certainly enjoyable. Both in bed and out.

But he wasn't Solo.

Duo curled his right hand into a fist and hit himself on the leg. He had to get over this. He and Solo were done. Solo had clearly, easily moved on. It was time for Duo to do the same.

Easier said than done, unfortunately.

Duo rose silently from the chair and grabbed his clothes and toiletry bag. He then barricaded himself into the bathroom, showering and grooming himself until he was certain he looked better than usual –without looking like he was trying – and then reentered the bedroom.

Heero was still asleep, for which Duo was thankful. He pulled on some shoes, donned his well-worn Red Sox hoodie, and left the hotel room.

The cab-ride over to his old apartment was uneventful, save for the phone call from Dorothy.

"Duo, I've found you an apartment."

"Doro, it's six a.m. Do you ever, ever stop doing your job?"

"No, I don't. For which you should be thankful. The apartment's in Hyde Park –"

"Jesus, Doro, could you have found a location more South?"

"-I tried. Anyway, it's fully furnished. Townhouse, of course. The view isn't what you're used to, but the neighborhood's great. Very quaint. It has an old feel to it."

"Um, Doro, you just described a place as having an "old feel."

"I thought you appreciated history, Duo."

"Yeah, but – it's creepy that you… never mind. When can I set up shop?"

"Meet me over there at noon and I'll give you the keys. Ready for the address?"

"Um…" Duo frantically searched his pockets for something to write on and with. The cab driver passed him a pencil through the partition and Duo pulled out an old receipt from his wallet. "Thanks man. Okay, I'm ready." He scribbled the address Dorothy gave him and then ended the call.

As he leaned back against the seat he was both relieved and strangely irritated. Yes, he had asked Dorothy to find him a place to live, and yes, he was tired of staying in the hotel room after only two nights. But still… he had expected her to let him at least look at a few places before she had him signing a lease.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of a familiar row of townhouses and Duo felt a tug in his stomach as he recognized his home. His SUV was still parked across the street and Solo's beat-up Subaru was parked behind him.

Duo felt his stomach drop even more. Great. He had been sort-of hoping Solo would be home… and sort of not at the same time.

He paid the cabbie and climbed out, squaring his shoulders and preparing himself to either have a fight or walk in to find Solo with someone else. And then have a fight.

He opened the door to find the apartment exactly as he had left it and felt a surge of relief, glad Solo hadn't already tried to erase his presence.

But it also seemed strangely empty.

"Hello?" Duo called out as he closed the door behind him.

His only answer was the slamming of a door.

"Great," Duo muttered to himself, "here we go."

He walked towards the bedroom and noticed that the bed was made up in meticulous Solo fashion, but that the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Then he spotted the closed bathroom door.

"I'm just here to grab my stuff. I'll be gone in twenty minutes," Duo said to the door.

He didn't get an answer.

"Solo?" Duo asked, rapping his knuckles against the door.

Still no answer and Duo tried the knob. It was locked.

"Damn it, Solo, talk to me!"

"Just… get your stuff and leave Duo," Solo's voice sounded odd and Duo couldn't tell if it was because of the barrier between them or something else.

"Er… you okay in there?" Duo asked awkwardly.

"I'm fine. Get your stuff, Duo."

"You gonna stay in there the whole time I'm here?"

"Probably."

"You are such a – fine. Whatever man."

Duo went in search of his duffel bags – he had quite a collection between all the teams he had played on in the past and also free, promotional gear given to him from various companies over the years.

After loading up six of the bags with all of his clothes and shoes he went downstairs to drop the load off in his car. Coming back up to pack whatever gear he still had lying about the house, he looked at the bookshelves in the living room. At the memorabilia collected there, the stacks of books, the pictures.

"Solo, do you want the – Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell happened to you?"

Duo came face to face with his former lover and couldn't help the horrified expression on his face when he saw him.

Solo's face was a swollen mass, his eyes barely visible, his nose broken and bleeding from a cut across the bridge. There were numerous cuts on his face and dark, purplish bruises disappeared down the neck of his t-shirt. From the way he was holding his side, Duo was willing to bet the damage didn't end there.

"What happened to you?" Duo repeated, reaching out to Solo only to have him flinch away.

"It doesn't concern you. Just, get your stuff Duo."

"What the fuck, man! Even if we don't – damn it, you're still by best friend and I'll be damned if you can close me out like this. Someone messed you up and I want to know who the hell did it!"

Solo's lips split in a wry grin which quickly turned into a grimace as cuts there reopened.

"Whaddya gonna do, get some of your baseball buddies together and autograph them to death?" Solo gave a short, bitter laugh. "This is outta your league, kiddo. You stick to playing your little game and let me do my job, k?" Solo pushed past him brusquely and walked into the kitchen. He stood there, back to Duo, and looked out of the kitchen window onto the street below.

Duo stood for a moment, totally speechless.

"Fine. Fucking fine, man. You know what – you are messed up, Solo. Seriously fuckin' screwed up. Just because – "

"Just because what, Duo? Why can't you say it? You think by not saying it it's less true? Well, grow up and get over yourself. We are done. You don't live here anymore. We don't fuck each other anymore. You've got no place here and no place with me. So get your shit together and get the fuck out!" Solo spun around at the end of his tirade and was glaring at Duo so fiercely that the braided man stepped backwards.

There was a rattle of keys, and then Duo heard the door knob turn. He looked to see who it was – who the hell else had keys to the apartment anyway – and was confronted with Mark Sullivan, one of the cops Solo routinely hung out with.

Sullivan looked from Duo to Solo.

"Why is he here?" Sullivan asked Solo, moving towards the injured man and glaring at Duo as though he thought that he were responsible for Solo's state.

"Came by to get his stuff. I think he was just leaving, though." Solo looked back at Sullivan, ignoring Duo.

"Yeah. Just leaving." Suddenly Duo felt about as small and insignificant as an ant. The two of them – standing there together, they seemed to be so much a team that Duo felt as though he were encroaching upon them and their territory.

"Duo," Solo's voice was quiet, "don't come back. Just… if there's anything you forgot, call me and I'll have it sent over to you. And, can I have your key?" The way Solo said it made it clear it wasn't a request, and Duo found himself fumbling for his keys. He angrily slipped the key from the ring and set it on the kitchen counter.

"Sure." And Duo made a speedy escape.

As he sat in his car at a stoplight ten minutes later, staring ahead of him without seeing anything, he was suddenly hit with a realization.

The night he had called Solo – it had been Sullivan's voice in the background.

This small detail didn't even mean anything to him, however, when compared to his curiosity over what had happened to Solo.

"They made him," Solo said as soon as Duo's car had roared off down the street.

"Fuck," Sullivan swore softly.

"I can't believe he just came over like that – of all the stupid – damn it!" Solo started to prowl the apartment, anger at his sudden helpless state driving him into motion.

"Do you think they'll try to get to you through him?" Sullivan asked.

"If they're stupid."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean that if I were them, I'd try to get to Duo through me. It's one thing to intimidate a cop into dropping a case. It's entirely another to have a sports' star at your mercy."

"I don't get it. The O'Grady's are into theft, drugs – what the hell – oh fucking shit. They're gonna ask him to throw games."

"Not ask him. They're gonna fucking tell him to." Solo slammed his fist into the counter.

"Solo – there's not much to be done about it now except for keeping an eye out. You've got to keep a clear head. This whole thing is about to get a lot tougher."

Solo glared at him.

"I know that."

Sullivan closed the distance between them and grabbed the back of Solo's neck and pulled the other man against him, mindful of his injuries.

"Nothing's going to happen to him, Solo. We'll stop them. But right now I'm more worried about you surviving this. That's more important."

"It's our job to protect civilians," Solo countered, mumbling into Sullivan's shirt.

"I know. But we can't do that if we're dead." Sullivan brushed his lips against Solo's temple and then released the other man.

"I gotta run – I just wanted to stop by and check on you. I'll come by tonight after my shift?"

Solo nodded.

"Make sure you tell Hilde that I'm on vacation and –"

"I'll take care of it. Seriously, get off your feet. Broken ribs aren't the most fun to walk on, I know."

"Sure thing, Cap't."

Sullivan smirked at the salute Solo threw his way and then left, locking the door behind him and leaving Solo to stare out of the window.

"Damn you, Duo," Solo muttered.

"You still haven't said yes," Wufei said.

Hilde, brushing her teeth over the sink, looked up at him and scowled.

"I haven't said no yet either," she said around the toothbrush.

"Are you going to?"

He was leaning in the bathroom doorway, and she had to push past him to get back into the bedroom. She did so roughly.

"Wufei – I'm still not convinced you aren't just marrying me because I'm pregnant."

"And I'm convinced that you are going to say no to me simply because you are," he replied, helping her make up the bed.

She glared at him across the bed.

"Wufei – "

"Hilde. If you need convincing that I love you, tell me what to do – I'll do it."

He saw the glint in her eyes and held up his hands.

"Short of anything to do with Duo Maxwell. I love you, but I refuse to lower myself to that extent."

"Hmph." Hilde started to dress for work, putting on a smart skirt suit that had Wufei eyeing her long legs appreciatively. She caught him looking at her and rolled her eyes.

"What?" He asked.

"You won't be looking at me like that in four months," she explained.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him.

"I'll be looking at you like that in fifty years," he countered.

"Chang, that was ridiculously sappy."

He smirked at her and she chuckled, finally wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

They stood like that for several minutes before she broke free.

"I've got to get to the station. Pitch well tonight – if you pitch. I'll see you when you get home?"

Wufei nodded and kissed her on the nose before seeing her out.

He waited until she had gotten into her hybrid Toyota and pulled away from the curb before he took out his cell phone.

Carefully he dialed a number and anxiously waited until his call was answered.

"Duo here."

"Maxwell, I need your help."

Fenway Park was filled to capacity – as it usually was when the Yankees came to town – and Trowa would have given anything to be somewhere else. Having pitched – and been thrown out of the game – last night, he was sitting in the dugout with the positional players, staring at the game on the field. Duo was beside him: both he and Heero had been suspended and, owing to their injuries, were forced to sit out the night instead of appealing their suspension as they would have normally.

Duo spent the first five innings staring stonily ahead, congratulating teammates, or exchanges pleasantries with the coaches who wandered by.

But by the sixth inning Trowa was fed up – while Duo's anger was completely justified, Trowa felt himself strangely missing the loudmouth's running commentary.

"Duo –"

"Give me one reason not to break your hand, Tro, one reason." Duo didn't bother to look towards Trowa as he delivered that threat, instead he remained glaring ahead.

"It was for his own good."

"Bullshit. You tell me when walking around with your heart cut out ever did anyone _any_ good." Duo did look over at him now, and there was an emptiness in his eyes that told Trowa that it wasn't only Quatre he was referring to now.

Trowa decided to come completely clean.

"I received some… fanmail last week. It was a photograph of me and Quatre – from when we went running together a few weeks ago…it, well, it was sort of an intimate photograph."

"Yeah?"

"And it came with a note – demanding money or else whoever it was – Jim something – would go to the tabloids with the photo."

"Oh."

"I told Dorothy – she – she figures that if there isn't anything to go to the press with, then…"

"Then no one would buy the story – so you broke up with him? Couldn't you two just be more… discreet?"

"I'm sorry, have you met Quatre? Discreet for him is holding hands instead of screwing in public."

Duo frowned.

"Yeah – but – "

"I didn't think I'd be able to go through with it, though. But then…" Trowa felt himself start to close down. Talking about his feelings, to anyone, was always difficult for him. He forced himself to keep talking. "He doesn't love me."

"The hell he doesn't – have you seen the way he looks at you?!"

"He won' – or can't say it. And if he can't say it – this is Quatre – then it can't be true, some aspect of it just isn't true."

"Or he's afraid of getting hurt again."

"What?"

"Look, I've known Quatre for a long time and while he's never been… closed off emotionally, he's certainly more guarded now than he was when we first met. And, look, it isn't my place to tell you the story – so I won't – but he's got his reasons for not committing himself as easily as he used to. He's been taken advantage of before, you know."

"I don't want to take advantage of him – damn it, I'm trying to protect him."

"You can't do that if you aren't with him," Duo pointed out.

Trowa scowled at that statement.

"How are you doing… without Solo?"

Duo smirked.

"Nice change of subject, buddy. I didn't know you cared."

There was a pause, and then Duo spoke again.

"How soon is… too soon to move on?"

"Five minutes later?"

His joke earned him a punch on the arm, hard enough that it stung a bit.

"Is this about Solo or about you?"

"Both," Duo growled.

Trowa glanced across the field, into the visitor's dugout, looking for Heero.

"Depends on the relationship, I suppose. With you and Solo – you were together for so long that it's natural you feel like any other relationship is cheating. At the same time – how long do you want to hang on, hoping for something?"

"Wow, Tro, that was real deep… almost like it came from your heart. Funny – I didn't think you kept anything right there except for wicked fastballs."

Trowa smiled slightly and leaned back against the bench. At least things were back to normal between him and Duo.


	10. Chapter 10

Once again: hooray reviews! You guys are the best. And I apologize for my long hiatus – winter just kinda hit me hard and I couldn't motivate myself to do anything… the fact that Sunday is the first game of the new season, tho, is pretty inspiring.

Out on Strikes 10/?

With three weeks left in the regular season, things had gotten tense. The Yankees and Red Sox were neck and neck in the divisional standings – most days within one game of each other – as well as the top of the American League Wild Card standings. The fact that, barring one of the other teams going on a tear both teams would be in the postseason made the competition even stiffer – no one wanted to come in second and have to play the Rangers, whose record was frighteningly good.

The MVP and Triple Crown races had heated up as well. Between Heero and Duo the two were leading the league in nearly every stat. Heero had the most RBIs, while Duo's batting average was phenomenal. Heero had more home runs, but Duo's stolen base record put everyone else's to shame. It was a toss up to see who would finish first in the voting for MVP, and most of the sportswriters were comparing the two to Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris back when they had been racing to break Ruth's home run record.

Wufei led the majors in saves as well as ERA, while Trowa led the American League with nineteen wins and, with five more starts before the season ended, seemed likely to pick up at least twenty-one wins.

It was, Quatre reflected, a great time to fall in love with baseball. The four young players, while being some of the best out there, were really representative of the new talent that was flooding the majors. All of the young people were finally getting a chance to come up as the stars of the 90s started to get phased out, and the fans appreciated the new blood. Duo and Heero alone had helped revitalize the youth following for the Red Sox and Yankees, while Wufei's amazing record had drawn in more Chinese fans.

Quatre knew that the next month would be tough on his friends – while Wufei and even Heero had experience playing at this level before in September, Duo and Trowa were new to the pressure associated with finishing strong. The two seemed to be holding up well, however, and were obviously getting a lot of balance from each other.

It was remarkable how their friendship worked – they were so very different that they had little in common, but that somehow allowed them to mesh together in ways that Quatre and Duo were unable to.

As excited as he was to see his friends play well, Quatre was anxious for the regular season to end because it would mean he could resign his position with and start writing freelance full time. His book had been picked up by Random House, and would be published in the spring, and since word of his book had spread he had gotten several offers from Sports Illustrated and Baseball Digest to write articles.

It would allow him to spend more time at home and less on the road, something he was keen on since his youngest sister, Iria, had just had her first child. It also meant he could spend more time in Boston pursuing Trowa.

Duo had told him about the threats Trowa had received, and about Dorothy's master plan. While Quatre understood Trowa's instinct to tell Dorothy he also resented the fact that he hadn't told Quatre – who had been at the focus of media since childhood and knew how to evade tabloid gossip better than most children of billionaires. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to yell at Trowa about it for at least two hours after he convinced Trowa to take him back.

He had decided that the best plan of action was to wait for the season to end – he didn't want to distract Trowa and he also knew that once it was November he would have constant access to Trowa, unlike now when he went on the road every other week.

So Quatre decided to patiently wait, which meant he spent a lot more time visiting his mother and sisters. It also meant he spent a lot more time fending off his mother's attempts to set him up with respectable dates.

It had taken a few years for his mother to accept the fact that her only son was gay and that any grandchildren she had would be from her daughters, but once she had committed to the idea and once her husband had died, she made it her mission to become knowledgeable on homosexuality and had even formed a support group among the other mother's in her circle who had gay sons.

One of the most awkward moments of his life occurred a week ago when he had come to visit Iria and his mother had cornered him and demanded to know if he preferred to be top or bottom.

He had managed to weasel his way out of a confession when the baby had started to cry, distracting his mother and allowing him to escape.

Now, however, there was no escape.

His mother had invited over Nicholas Greenglass and his mother for lunch. It was completely obvious to both men what was happening, and just as obvious that there was no escaping their mothers attempts at matchmaking.

"Oh! Quatre, I forgot to tell you. Sarah and I are on that new diet – you know, the Master Cleanse thing and I know you boys don't want anything to do with that. Why don't you two try out that new place off of Maryland Avenue? The little Tuscan place?" His mother batted her eyelashes at him, all sweetness and steel. "I'll call over and get a table for you two, alright?"

Which was why Quatre now found himself sitting across from Nick on a Saturday afternoon at an Italian restaurant that he and Trowa had wanted to try when they heard it would be opening.

Quatre sighed as he looked over the menu – he couldn't help but guess what Trowa would have liked to order.

Nick chuckled and Quatre looked over at him.

"I'm sorry – it's just, well, I know they mean well, but…"

Quatre nodded.

"It's like our only qualifications are gay male – they don't even think that there are certain personalities or anything we might be drawn to… not that you don't seem nice, Nick… um…" Quatre felt himself turning red and silently cursed when Nick laughed again.

"Thanks, I guess," Nick said and shot him a lop-sided grin that did funny things to Quatre's stomach.

Nick Greenglass had been a schoolmate of Quatre's and before that a playmate since his family's home on Martha's Vineyard was down the road from the Winner's. The summer Quatre turned thirteen he had actually masturbated to the sight of Nick skinny dipping and that memory had caused him to avoid the man across from him for the better part of ten years.

"You know, when we were kids, I had such a crush on you."

Quatre froze for a moment – had he said that or had Nick?

"Oh – oh. I ah, I was just thinking the same thing, actually," Quatre said after a moment.

Nick arched an eyebrow.

"Really? Not just trying to spare my feelings?"

"No, really. That's why I always avoid you – I keep thinking of the time…" Quatre trailed off and once again felt his face turn red. What was he, fifteen?

Nick laughed again, and even though it was at his own expense, Quatre found that he liked the rich tone of Nick's laugh.

The waiter came and got their order, interrupting the confessional mood.

When the food arrived Quatre absorbed himself in his own dish – relishing the safety of chewing. But after the check was paid for and they walked back to Nick's car Quatre knew he would have to start up conversation again or risk being impolite.

"You know," Nick said as they approached his sporty convertible, " I used to watch you sailing with your sisters during the summer and, well, I guess I can blame you for my first wet dream."

Quatre thought he would melt into the pavement right then. This could NOT be happening.

Nick saw the look on his face and smirked as he held open the door for Quatre.

"Not that you're my type or anything, though."

Now Quatre knew that the world hated him. His childhood crush was teasing him – and he was enjoying it. Come to think of it, he hadn't been teased by anyone except for Duo in a long time. It felt good to have something light, something meaningless. Something he didn't have to commit to.

Nick drove back to Quatre's apartment, since Quatre flat out refused to return to his mother's for a date debriefing, and parked out front.

"Going to invite me up so we can keep sharing dirty stories?"

Quatre shivered at the thought.

"That depends – I've always been more of a visual person."

Nick nodded sagely.

"Me too – you know, I personally think that re-enactments are the best way to tell stories, don't you?"

Quatre smiled slightly.

"Only if the story is worth telling."

"Oh it's worth it alright, Quatre Winner."

* * *

Duo still found coming home to his new apartment strange, but after two weeks on the road coming home to a cardboard box would have been preferable to staying another night in a hotel.

What was usually strange about coming home was the lack of history to the apartment. It was a townhouse – something Duo had always wanted to live in – and it was old, Dorothy was right about that. But it didn't have the memories like his old apartment had had. Duo didn't know why, but he still had not invited Heero over. Perhaps in after the season ended, during the break before the divisional playoffs?

But tonight what was strange about coming home were the two men sitting on the stoop in front of his house.

No doubt about it, they were working for someone – working as in they were the muscle for some kind of operation. Growing up on the Southside of Boston had given Duo a pretty intimate knowledge of criminal organizations and these two were poster-boys for organized crime.

Ugly, with leather coats and tight jeans, either too stupid or too arrogant to bother hiding the fact that they wore shoulder holsters under their coats.

"Evening gentlemen," Duo said as he walked up towards them.

"You Duo Maxwell?" One of them asked.

"Look, if you're here for an autograph I'm afraid I'm all out of pen and paper – maybe you should come to the ballpark tomorrow?"

"Friend of ours wants to have a word with you, Maxwell."

Duo sighed.

"Listen, friends, I've just gotten in from LA and all I want right now is to go upstairs and call it a night – if this other guy wants to talk, have him come to the ballpark with you tomorrow."

They grinned at him.

"No need, he's already upstairs waiting for you."

Duo felt his blood chill.

What the hell was going on here?

Reluctantly he followed thug #1 (as he dubbed them) up the stairs while thug #2 brought up the rear, thoughtfully carrying Duo's duffel bag for him.

The door to Duo's apartment looked intact –which meant nothing, since even Duo's whose skills were years out of practice, could still pick the lock – and the furniture looked untouched. Except for the easy-chair by the television. It was turned to face the door and sitting in the chair was a large man with a mop of red hair.

"Ah – Duo Maxwell. It's good to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure. These gentlemen mentioned that you had some business with me?"

Duo moved over towards the window, pretending to check the plant on the windowsill (which was decidedly dead – he had told Dorothy it was a waste of her time to get it) but really looking out of the window to see if anyone would be witness to what he was sure was his impending death.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Maxwell, I do. You probably don't know me –"

"Yeah, I kinda have a habit of avoiding lowlife types."

"-My name is Colin O-Grady. You may have heard of me?"

Duo swallowed hard. He had heard of O'Grady – from Solo who had been working to bring down O'Grady's group for nearly two years. O'Grady was mostly into drugs, but he was a tough guy who had already sent three of Boston's finest to early graves.

"Might have heard your name once or twice," Duo allowed.

"I thought so. You see, Mr. Maxwell, I am a man of varied interests. And varied acquaintances. For example, I believe we have a mutual friend who is still recovering from our last… transaction."

Duo's fists clenched – so this was the bastard that had hurt Solo. Even knowing that, Duo was still pretty helpless. Much as he would have liked to beat the hell out of O'Grady, two guys with guns kind of had him outnumbered.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I know that it would certainly be beneficial to your friend if you cooperate with me – and it can be beneficial to you as well."

"I'm sorry but it seems to me that using a high profile athlete to smuggle drugs is a bit obvious, isn't it?"

O'Grady laughed.

"I am insulted you think so little of me. Tell me, Mr. Maxwell, what do you know of the 1919 WhiteSox?"

Duo's heart hammered in his chest as he realized where this was going.

"You have got to be kidding – you want me to throw games?"

"Well, maybe in the future, but for now, I just want you to allow Heero Yuy to win the American League MVP and the Rookie of the Year award."

"What?! Did Heero put you up to this, is this some kind of sick joke?!"

"I assure, Mr. Maxwell, that no one is laughing. You see, you're the best rookie player Boston has had since Ted Williams. The odds are in your favor – and I don't bet even stakes. So, if Mr. Yuy wins the awards I stand to make quite a bit of money – as do you. And, well, your pig friend can stay alive for a little while longer."

"You have got to be kidding – even if I did start playing badly, Trowa Barton could still win Rookie of the Year."

"Not if he loses his last five starts."

"What the hell am I supposed to do to make THAT happen?"

"You're pretty good with a glove, kid, but there have to be times where you can't get to a ball and it becomes a base hit – or times when you throw to the cut off man instead of throwing home."

"I – no, no way in hell am I going to do this for you."

"Oh really? Have you seen Solo recently?"

"Yeah, and you roughed him up pretty damn good, but if I start playing your game now that isn't going to stop."

"Perceptive of you. You're right, of course, but you can at least keep this from escalating. You and he are attached, correct? I wonder, how attached you could be if he were to lose a hand – or an eye – or even something more… well, vital?"

"You sick –" Duo charged towards the man but thug #1 grabbed him and held him back in a crushing grip. Duo pushed him off, only to find himself pinned to the ground a second later with a gun digging into his temple.

"Play my game now, Mr. Maxwell, and you and Solo get to live. Go to the police and I'll kill Solo – and then you. Or perhaps I will kill that female cop… Hilde?"

"You stay the hell away from them!" Duo struggled against the hands holding him down and earned a swift kick in the ribs.

Breathing through the pain, Duo struggled to focus on O'Grady, who was coming towards him.

"I will, if you follow through. Now, I have business to attend to – but my two associates would like to discuss the finer details of this arrangement with you." O'Grady looked at his two thugs. "Remember, no broken bones – and stay away from his hands. He still has to play, after all. We don't want Boston to drop out of the playoffs."

* * *

"Wufei, I want you to meet my sister first."

It was nearly midnight and Wufei was struggling to stay awake. He and Hilde were laying in his bed – on the new mattress – and he was rubbing her back as she curled against him.

"First as in ten minutes before the ceremony?"

"No, first as in she's coming to visit the same week that you next play in Boston – the last game of the season – and I want you to come over for dinner, or lunch, or something, and meet her."

Wufei frowned, not at all excited about the prospect of being interrogated by Hilde's sister and also playing against his rivals.

"One condition – you meet my sister also."

"You have a sister?"

"Sort of. She's Meilin's half-sister."

"Um, not to sound stupid, but isn't that a weird connection?"

"I suppose it might seem like that. She's several years older than I – than Meilin was too – and well, she more or less raised Meilin. They were quite close and she feels the need to look out for me, well, as much as I allow her too."

"Oh. Well, if it's important to you, then do you think she would want to come over then too – sort of take care of everyone in one fell swoop?"

"Yes, actually. I think that would work out very well."

Hilde shifted to kiss Wufei.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

"And thank you for the new Vonnegut book – I didn't think you were interested in fiction much. It was really thoughtful of you to get it – and an autographed copy!"

"You're welcome."

Wufei felt slightly guilty about soliciting Duo's help in wooing Hilde, but picking out books for her – books that weren't about the environment –was definitely something he needed help with.

"And thanks for getting me flowers – I love lavender."

Flowers too, were things that Duo knew about.

"And have I told you how much I love the new mattress?"

"Yes, but you can tell me again."

"It's really wonderful, Wufei. I'm so glad we don't have to sleep on the bed of nails anymore."

"Hm."

"Wufei?"

"Yes, Hilde?"

"Do you want me to let you go to sleep now?"

"Yes. Unless you can think of anything else you need to thank me for."

"Oh! I almost forgot! Thanks for being such an arrogant – "

He silenced her with a kiss. By the time he pulled away from her she was grinning and stretching out against him.

"Oh, Mr. Chang, thank you for that! Are you sure you want to go to sleep?"

Wufei smirked down at her.

"Like I said, unless you can think of anything else to thank me for?"

"Mm, I'm about to think of a whole lot of things to thank you for if you keep kissing me like that."

"I was hoping you would say that."

Wufei pulled her against him again and proceeded to give her ample reason to thank him. And this he did NOT need Duo Maxwell's help with.

* * *

Sunday came painfully early in Duo's opinion. The Red Sox were scheduled to play against the Twins at two that afternoon, which meant Duo reported to the stadium at nine that morning.

Waking up at six he spent three hours rearranging the furniture in his apartment. Even so, the place still held the memory of the thugs from the night before. Still, the pain of pushing around the heavy objects felt strangely good. The tug against his sore, bruised muscles was punishment. The sharp stabs of pain when he bent over were welcome as well, reminders of what those bastards had done to Solo.

Duo spent those three hours of mindless labor trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. There was no way he could play less than his best – he simply couldn't. There were too many people depending on him. But it was just a game… and Solo and Hilde's lives depended on him losing that game. Still, Duo had never been one to give into bullying – the fact that Solo had usually protected him from bullies did enter his mind but he brushed it aside. He couldn't rely on Solo now. It was time to do this his way.

When he arrived at the stadium fifteen minutes early he saw Trowa getting ready by his locker.

Duo cautiously approached the pitcher.

"Er, Tro… do you ever have off days?"

Trowa's eyes were sharp as they looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you ever have a day when you… just don't feel right? When you can't seem to position the ball or find a groove in the dirt or anything like that?"

"Of course."

"Well?"

"What?"

"So, how do you get over it?"

"I do. If I can't grip the all I turn it. If I can't find a groove I make a new one."

And suddenly, simply and brilliantly, Duo had a plan.

"Thanks, man. I owe you big time." He clapped Trowa on the shoulder and then walked over to his locker and began to strip down.

He started humming to himself, completely absorbed in THE PLAN.

"Duo?"

It was Trowa, standing beside him and looking down at Duo's stomach.

Duo followed his gaze to the bruises that had formed, dark purple splotches that covered his sides.

"Um, fell over in the dark – new apartment and everything." Duo quickly pulled on his undershirt and then the jersey before anyone else could see what Trowa was looking at.

Trowa frowned.

"When's the last time you saw Heero?"

"Been a few weeks. Why? What – whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a sec, what exactly are you implying here?"

"I'm not implying anything. But since you brought it up, is there something between you two?"

Duo was a long time in answering.

"Yes," he said at last, furiously pulling on his cleats.

"Duo."

Reluctantly he looked up at Trowa.

"It's about damn time."

Duo laughed, completely taken off guard. Trowa allowed himself a small smile and together they left the club house and headed for the field.

"What do you think of your chances for Rookie of the Year?"

Trowa shrugged.

"I'm sort of hoping that you and Heero will split the vote and enough people will vote for me that I can pass you."

"Huh, I didn't think of it like that. Makes sense."

"That's because I'm brilliant. You're just the peon who hits the ball."

"Hey! This peon saved your ass four nights ago in LA when he hit the ball out of the park."

"I know, and I expect you to do the same today."

"Sure thing. Want a side of fries with that?"

Trowa looked thoughtful.

"No. I'm trying to watch my saturated fats intake."

Duo shook his head.

"Man, you get weirder and weirder. You seriously need to get laid before you start running into walls or something."

Trowa's eyes narrowed but he refrained from commenting.

"Hey, speaking of getting laid, there's everyone's favorite reporter." Duo waved to Quatre who was slowly approaching them.

"Hey guys." Quatre looked a little nervous as he smiled at Trowa, but the pitcher politely nodded at him.

"You two are complete idiots," Duo groused.

"Coming from you, that isn't really saying much," Trowa observed.

Duo stuck his tongue out at him.

"So, any thoughts going into the last stretch of the regular season?"

Duo shrugged.

"I just want to keep playing my best and get the chance to kick some Yankee butt in the American League Championship Series. And then hold the World Series Trophy while they sit at home and cry, of course."

Quatre smiled indulgently and then looked at Trowa.

"Trowa? Any comments?"

"Like Duo said, I just want to keep playing my best. The pitching staff has been working as such a great unit this year – I'm just one part of that and I want to do the best job I can." Trowa nodded towards Duo and then walked away to join the other pitchers who had collected near the bullpen.

Duo sighed and shook his head.

"Q, I don't know when you wanted to implement this master plan of yours, but this is getting kind of sad to watch."

"IsleptwithsomeoneelselastnightandnowTrowawillhateme."

"What? Was that English? Slow down."

Quatre's face was pink as he repeated himself.

"I slept with someone else last night. And now Trowa will hate me."

Duo's jaw dropped.

"You what?! Who?"

"A guy – a guy I've known since we were kids. Our mother's set us up on a date yesterday and… Duo, I'm a total slut."

"Christ, Quatre. I thought you were pining away over Trowa!"

"I am, damn it! But it was nice having sex – fun sex – that meant nothing. It was relaxing."

"I can't believe – okay – okay… well, then. Um. Are you and this guy gonna be a thing or…?"

"I don't know, Duo. I just – it was nice."

"Nice as in…"

"As in I'd do it again if the opportunity presented itself."

Duo shook his head.

"Quatre, this is going to kill Trowa."

"Then don't tell him! It's none of his business anyway. He's the one who broke up with me in the first place."

"Um, well. Okay. Look, Quatre, I've got to warn you about something."

"Yes?" The blonde looked curious now.

"I'm going to do something tomorrow that's going to be incredibly stupid. It may very well end my career. So, I just want to warn you, there's going to be a lot of fallout. And I'm not going to blame you – one way or the other."

"Um, Duo, have you been using steroids?"

"What?! No! I don't cheat!"

"Okay, calm down. I was just checking. Well… if it isn't steroids I don't have any idea what you're talking about. But you know I've got your back."

Duo smiled.

"Yeah, thanks. Look, I gotta go warm up – but we aren't done with this discussion about your date."

"Okay, okay."

Duo nodded and jogged away to start batting practice.

Grinning, he hit every pitch into the stands.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Oh! People still like me! And, for the record, I'm not nearly as evil as I seem. Also for the record… I hardly EVER kill Duo. Hardly. Also, this is a warning: you aren't going to be happy when you read the end of this chapter – but it'll get better, I promise. Or, at least I hope it will. So don't give up if it makes you mad! Tell me it makes you mad… or, if it makes you kinda happy, tell me that too and this fic might take on a whole new turn. Either way, someone is about to die – just not in this chapter

Out on Strikes 11/?

Heero found himself in the awkward position of missing Duo. In the past month he had spent only three days with him, and while they spoke on the phone several times a week, Heero found himself wanting to wake up with Duo again, or going running with him and then showering together.

This sort of immediate attachment was so uncharacteristic of him that it made him rethink the whole relationship – whatever that relationship was.

Wufei had started hounding him about it as soon as they returned from their last roundtrip and he had overheard Heero telling Duo that he missed him. The pitcher had immediately pounced.

"You MISS him? What exactly does that mean?"

"It means I miss him, Chang."

"As in you miss beating in his face or you miss his company?"

Heero glared and Wufei momentarily retreated.

They were at Wufei's apartment, enjoying a rare off day and take-out.

"Yuy – you can't seriously – he's with the Red Sox! He's the singular most annoying person on the planet! Yuy, don't you have standards?!"

"I know he's annoying, but there's more to it than that. He's… different."

"Your face – Yuy… I can't believe you! The enemy!"

"He's not the enemy."

"What do you mean he's not the enemy? You two are neck and neck for the MVP and Rookie of the Year awards – our teams are neck and neck for the Division title – and you're sleeping with him!"

"You make him sound like a Nazi. Besides, I've only gotten to sleep with him three times."

"So it's just sex, then?"

"No, maybe."

Wufei smirked at him.

"You've got it bad."

"He doesn't," Heero growled back.

Wufei shrugged.

"Give him time – he just came off of a what, ten year or more relationship?"

"So you go from hounding me to offering relationship advice?"

"I am vast. I contain multitudes."

Heero refrained from rolling his eyes at that comment.

"Oh – hey, something's up. Turn on Sports Center," Wufei said, glancing up from his laptop.

Heero grabbed the remote and did as instructed.

It looked like a press conference was being held, and as the cameras zeroed in on the dais at the front of a room two people came into focus.

"What's Duo doing? Must be something big if he's got Doro there with him," Wufei mused.

"Hn."

Heero panicked for a moment – what was going on? Why hadn't Duo told him he was holding a press conference? Was he possibly announcing a trade – no, it was too late in the season for that.

"Thank you all for coming here on such short notice today," Duo began. He looked somber, his hair pulled back in it's customary braid, dark suit and tie immaculate.

"You're probably wondering what's going on, so I'll try to be as to-the-point as possible. Growing up on the streets of Boston, my only dream was to play ball – and I always wanted to play for the Sox. To me, baseball was the only sport that really mattered – it's one of the first American sports, it was the first to integrate. It's America, you know?" Duo paused and drew in a deep breath. "So baseball has always been my home, in a way. My point is, I've spent most of my life wanting to be a part of this great dynasty, and now that I am I feel pretty damn content. Except for one thing: I'm living a lie."

There was a long pause as Duo took a sip of water.

"You see, I'm not just a baseball player, I'm not just some orphan. I'm also homosexual. I've debated whether or not to come out with the truth, but I finally decided that, though my private life is actually private, I still don't think that I need to lie about who I am. So I'm not."

There was a moment of complete silence – not even the camera's were flashing – before Dorothy spoke up.

"Mr. Maxwell will take questions for the next fifteen minutes," she said firmly after clearing her throat.

It took another minute before her words registered and the reporters started to shout.

By that time Heero had left Wufei's apartment and was pulling out his cell phone.

"James? It's Heero. I need to be on a flight to Boston ten minutes ago. Make it happen." Heero hailed a cab while still on the phone with his travel agent. By the time he was in the cab he was booked on a flight leaving JFK.

"We need to be at JFK immediately," Heero told the driver. He passed a hundred dollar bill through the partition.

The driver stared at it for a second.

"Yes sir!"

Heero held onto the door handle for dear life as the cab sped through Manhattan.

* * *

Quatre was as speechless as the rest of the reporters gathered in the press room. By the time he had recovered Duo was under a barrage of questions, but Quatre stuck his hand in the air, confident that Dorothy would allow him to speak.

"Mr. Winner?" She called over the din of voices.

"Thanks. Duo, are there other athletes – maybe even other baseball players – that you think are also homosexual? Do you think your announcement here today will inspire any of them to come forward?"

"There isn't any kind of club, Mr. Winner, of gay athletes. But, yes, there are others. And yes, I hope that my announcement will also motivate them to come forward."

"Duo! Duo! How do you think this will affect your chances at MVP or Rookie of the Year?"

Duo was frowning at the question.

"I'm honestly not sure, those are, after all, awards for my actions on the field."

"Duo! Are you dating anyone?"

At this Duo smirked, and Quatre relaxed a little at the familiar expression on his friend's face.

"Yeah, yeah I am."

"How do you think your teammates will react to this news?"

"I hope that they'll stand by me. After all, I'm the same guy I was yesterday."

"Duo – "

"I'm sorry, that's all the time Mr. Maxwell has for questions. Thank you for coming here today." Dorothy stood and Duo followed suit. The two waded through the reporters silently, ignoring the questions still being thrown at them.

Quatre found himself one of the last reporters to leave, and as he hung back he listened to the comments of the other reporters as they brushed past him.

"… believe it? Fuckin' queer…"

"…gonna change things? I wouldn't be caught in a locker-room with him, who knows…"

"…strange. Real damn strange. If you ask me, I woulda…"

"…little sister is going to be so devastated – she thought he was _hot_…"

Finally he was alone, staring at the podium, at the empty room, the small chaos left by reporters eager to file their stories.

He had the eerie feeling he was looking at the end of something.

Something that resembled the end of Duo's career.

* * *

Trowa stared at the television for a full five minutes before he turned it off. The press conference had ended, and Sports Center was now trying to fumble through a response to Duo's shocking confession.

And Trowa… Trowa was sitting at home, staring at the television screen.

_What the hell had just happened?_

He was pretty sure that Duo had just sacrificed his entire career. What he didn't know was why.

Duo had a five year plan, which he hadn't spoken about much since his break-up with Solo, anyway.

Had Heero put him up to this?

But that made no sense to Trowa, because Heero seemed as reluctant to come out as Trowa himself did.

So what could have possibly motivated Duo?

He grabbed his cell phone and flipped it open, dialing Dorothy's number from memory.

"Trowa?" She answered after one ring, and the silence in the background told him that she was probably in a cab.

"What the hell just happened? Did you put him up to this?"

"Are you kidding? I've been up since two this morning trying to talk him out of doing this. But he's been so damn persistent – Trowa, we need to work out a plan for you. As a teammate and friend, where do you stand on this?"

Trowa hadn't even begun to consider that.

"Trowa? Look, this is going to have enormous backlash on Duo's career. If you stand with him – the same thing is going to happen to you. If you want to pull out, we need to do it quick, before reporters start making connections – or before that damn tabloid threat crops up again. Trowa?"

He thought back to his conversation with Quatre, months ago, when he had asked what Trowa would do if Duo did come out.

"Trowa? We need to move quick on this. What do you want to do?"

Then, he had said that he wouldn't come out with Duo. Then he had thought to distance himself from the loudmouth. Then… then…

"Dorothy, tomorrow I'll do the same."

"What? What do you mean the same?"

"I'd like to hold a press conference as well."

"Trowa! This is insane! You don't have to do that – just, say that you support him. There's no reason to send your career down the toilet too!"

"So you think that's what will happen, then? We'll both find ourselves optioned out to some minor league team in… Topeka or something?"

"Trowa, I strongly advise you to reconsider this. This – this is not a good career move."

"Dorothy, I owe it to Duo. I owe it to myself."

There was silence on the other line.

"Dorothy?"

"I'll set things up and get back to you in a few hours. I swear to God, Trowa, if you two weren't the best things to happen to the Red Sox in fifty years, I would – "

"Yeah, we know. Thank you."

* * *

They were waiting for him when he came home. It had been a long day, dodging press and sitting through meetings with Red Sox publicists and management. All he wanted to do was go home, shower, and collapse on the couch. Maybe sleep. Maybe even eat.

But, it seemed, the world hated Duo Maxwell.

The two thugs looked angry as he approached, so he put on his biggest smirk.

"Evening, gentlemen."

"O'Grady ain't too happy with you."

"Yeah, that's really tearing me up inside. Thought I'd send him some flowers or something tomorrow, though." Duo widened his eyes. "Maybe I should…ask him out?"

The thugs weren't amused.

"Look, if you think this is gonna get you out of the deal – "

"I know it isn't, but it'll fulfill my end of the bargain."

They looked confused.

Duo sighed in exasperation. "Gentlemen, how many sportswriters do you know that support homosexuality?" They frowned. "And how many do you think are going to vote for a gay MVP or Rookie of the Year? Exactly zero. So, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain – and O'Grady better keep his hands off Solo and Hilde.

The thugs looked at each other, clearly annoyed but unsure as to what they could do.

"Now, run along and tell O'Grady everything's gonna work out." Duo made a shooing motion with his left hand. The thugs continued to glare, but moved down the street.

Duo spent a few minutes watching them disappear before he went into the building.

He was more than shocked to see who was waiting inside for him.

"Heero? Solo? What – what are you doing here?"

Heero was sitting on the living room couch, while Solo was leaning against the wall near the window. Clearly he had observed everything.

Judging from their facial expressions they had also clearly heard everything.

"Well, good to have you two – makes a nice, awkward house-warming party," Duo was rambling.

"Duo – " Solo started.

"What the hell just happened?" Heero demanded, rising from the couch and crossing the room to stand in front of Duo.

The anger in his eyes pushed Duo back. He looked over at Solo, saw concern in those blue eyes.

"Well, you see…"

"What I see, Duo, is that you just sabotaged your chances at MVP and Rookie of the Year. What I don't see is why."

"That would be my fault," Solo broke in, putting a hand on Heero's shoulder and pulling him away from Duo.

"Your fault?" Heero and Duo echoed.

Solo looked at Duo.

"Duo, I'm sorry. This is… damn it. I think I should probably explain some things to both of you."

"Yeah, I think that'd be a good idea," Duo said, swallowing hard against the sudden urge to scream.

Solo ran a hand through his hair. Hair that in Duo's opinion could do with a trim. Duo mentally slapped himself. Focus.

"I've been working on the O'Grady case for two years now, you already know that, Duo – "

"Who is O'Grady?" Heero jumped in.

Solo looked thoughtful for a moment. "Remember that movie from a few years back? The Departed? Think Jack Nicholson and you're almost at how powerful O'Grady is."

Heero scowled, whether at being told to compare real-life to a movie or because he understood how serious O'Grady was, Duo couldn't tell.

"A few months ago – the night before you came over, actually, O'Grady's guys tracked me down." Solo shrugged. "Roughed me up – gave me the usual 'drop the case or you're dead' thing and dropped me off at home – just to prove they knew where I lived."

"Oh shit. Then I come blundering in like an idiot the next day…" Duo trailed off as Solo nodded and Heero started to glare.

"Which is why I was… Jesus, Duo, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, I just wanted you gone. I hoped that, well, you'd be mad enough that they would see and just leave it – dumb idea."

"Yeah, I'll say. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, anyway." Duo tried for a grin, but only one corner of his mouth turned up.

"So why were they here?" Heero demanded.

Duo sighed.

"They saw me that day. Then, last week, they showed up and threatened to kill Solo and Hilde if I didn't throw games, if I didn't rig it so you won MVP and Rookie." Duo swallowed hard and looked away from the anger in Heero's eyes.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"What could you have done, huh? Held my hand as we went to the cops and then held my hand again at the funerals for my best friends? Telling you only would have pissed you off – especially when I went through with it. You wouldn't have been able to look at me! You'd – you'd look at me like you are now. You're disgusted with me. Disgusted that I'm so weak that I gave in."

Heero looked away from Duo's accusing eyes.

"But you didn't, Duo! You were brilliant. Outing yourself – it was risky, and I'm not sure it's gonna work, but it makes you untouchable to O'Grady. He doesn't want to be connected with you – he can't brag about having some star in his pocket if he's gay – he'd never live it down."

Solo was smirking, triumphant, as he explained it.

"I wish you'd come to me, though. I know I was an ass – but, Duo – "

"No, no, no, no. You cannot both do this to me. I'm a fucking adult. I did what I thought was best, my choice, my consequences. I don't need permission from either one of you. Something that you," he stabbed a finger into Solo's chest, "made clear to me. And something that I thought you would understand," he looked over at Heero, but the Japanese man was looking away, jaw clenched in anger.

Finally, Heero looked over at him.

"I realize we haven't been together that long. I realize we aren't as close as… you two. But I'm there for you – as your… as your boyfriend, it's my job to hold your hand. No, you don't need my permission. But you can't just cut me out of parts of your life." Heero shook his head. "Not if you want me. Not if you want something between us. And this does affect me, Duo Maxwell. You've compromised the integrity of this game you claim to love so much." He advanced on Duo, roughly grabbing his shoulders and looking in his eyes. "There are two weeks left in the season. If I see or hear of you playing anything less than your best – your absolute, two-hundred percent best, I'll go to the press myself, and tell them about this whole damn thing. Do you understand?"

Mouth dry, Duo could only nod.

"Good. I have a plane to catch." He released Duo. "I need to concentrate on the game right now, so, don't… don't try to call me or anything. We'll talk in November. If there's anything to talk about."

And with that Heero was gone.

Duo stared after him, feeling his eyes burn but refusing to give into his body.

Eventually Solo pulled him into a hug.

"You did good, Duo. He doesn't understand – he doesn't see it, not yet."

"But he will?" Duo found himself gripping Solo tightly and breathed in the familiar scent of the blonde man.

"He fucking better. Or I'll break his legs myself."

Duo laughed weakly and pulled away to look up at Solo.

Solo's blue eyes were serious as they met his.

"I messed up, Duo, I know. But, I can't help but think – you did this on your own. You didn't lean on anybody. And I knew you could – I always knew you didn't need me, but you used to depend on me, and –"

"I know. You're right, Solo. I did. I'm sorry."

Solo's face was serious as he took in Duo's admission. Then he nodded once and grinned.

"Good. Just so long as we've settled the fact that I'm still always right –"

And suddenly they were kissing, the heat so overwhelming and their passion so furious neither could think of anything but MORE.

* * *

Quatre came home to find Nick in the kitchen. And Trowa in the living room.

"Oh fuck."

Nick was making dinner, just like he had promised he would last night. Just as if Trowa Barton, Red Sox god and rival for Quatre's affections, wasn't sitting on the couch and watching ESPN.

"Hey honey," Nick said, cheer forced.

"Hi…Nick, Trowa."

Trowa turned off the television and walked over to Quatre.

His eyes were dark and unreadable as he looked down at Quatre.

"I wanted to tell you that you were right. This is my fight. I thought that you would like to know, but you've obviously got other concerns right now. Goodnight."

Trowa left silently and Quatre stood dumbfounded for several seconds before he realized what had just happened.

"Trowa!" He shouted as he arrived at the entrance to his building, searching for any sign of the pitcher.

He saw a tall figure walking down the street some distance away.

Running, he caught up just as he turned a corner.

"Trowa – Trowa! Sop!"

Quatre had no trouble reading Trowa's eyes now. They were still dark, but they were glassy, and a tear was working its way out of his right eye.

"Trowa –"

The tall man avoided Quatre's hand as he reached out.

"Don't, Quatre. I'm not strong enough for this. My best friend – my only friend – just outed himself to the world and it," Trowa gestured with one hand, "it inspired me to do it too. So I come to tell you – because it matters – it mattered to you. And I thought – this is it, this is what didn't work." Trowa shook his head. "And you've got a fucking… house frau in there, cooking for you. How stupid am I, huh?" He swiped angrily at his eyes.

"Trowa –"

"I left you, remember? You have every right to be with someone else, right?" Trowa shook his head and turned away, walking again. Quatre again caught up with him, stopping him by grabbing his arms.

"Trowa," Quatre swallowed hard, "Trowa, I love you."

There was a silent moment as Trowa seemed to consider his words.

"Funny way you have of showing it," he said before pulling free and walking away.

It was a long time before Quatre found his way home. But Nick was waiting patiently by the oven. As soon as he saw Quatre he opened the door and produced dinner.

It smelled wonderful, but it tasted like betrayal.

* * *

TBC…… 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Yes, yes, I am indeed an evil person. Hooray! We're coming to the end of the line pretty soon, so things will, I promise, become resolved.

Also, in defense of myself: This fic has sort of been an exercise in self-control. I am, and always will be, a Yankees fan. They are, without a doubt, the greatest sports franchise in America. I hate the Red Sox with a passion – mostly because they trade away their older guys (unlike the Yankees, who generally let a guy finish off their career with them if he wants), but also because they treated Johnny Damon badly (your loss, our gain with that one), because Ortiz threw bats at umpires – and hit them – and no one cares. And they're losers. That said, I love Duo and Trowa, and since they didn't want to cut their hair… they had to be Red Sox. So, there we have it. Also, they dumped Garciaparra – wtf? And… well, back to the story.

Out on Strikes 12/?

Someone was trying to break down the door.

Duo found that he didn't care that much. Still in bed, tangled up with the sheets and with Solo, he was plagued with the sort of after-sex languor he hadn't felt in weeks. Months, even.

He rolled over and looked at Solo, who was grinning slightly in his sleep. It was the same expression that Duo had seen on his face thousands of times before. And before, Duo had always felt the urge to grin back – even though Solo couldn't see. Now, however, the expression made him frown.

What the hell – did this constitute cheating on Heero? Was Heero really his boyfriend, as he had said the night before? Was Solo now trying to – go back to what they had? And who was STILL trying to break the door?

Duo now scowled. At this point of his mental tirade, Heero would usually wake up and force his mind onto other, pleasanter topics. But Solo didn't seem to have the connection to Duo's subconscious that the Yankees' catcher did.

Now Duo was really angry. He was comparing them again – but now Heero was coming out better. Heero who wasn't here, Heero who would probably never be here again. Heero, who needed time to think about the game. Heero –

"Duo! Open the door already! I need to talk to you! You've got to call Trowa! He's about to make a huge mistake!" The shouting was punctuated by more pounding, and Duo reluctantly pulled himself out of bed.

Solo stirred, slowly opening his eyes and blinking up at Duo.

"Hey," he drawled, stretching sensuously.

Duo glared down at him.

"Stay in here – and keep quiet, I've got company."

Duo pulled on a shirt and boxers from the pile of clothes on the floor before he left the bedroom.

"Duo –"

"I mean it! Keep quiet." Duo shot a warning look over his shoulder before closing the door.

He took the stairs two at a time and reached the front door a few seconds later. He opened it just as Quatre was preparing to knock again.

"Mornin'," Duo greeted, leaning against the frame.

Quatre glared.

"I've been out here for fifteen minutes – what took you so long to get – oh." The blonde trailed off and looked down at Duo's attire.

Duo also looked down.

"Shit."

He was wearing Solo's Massachusetts State Trooper shirt, which he could have explained away. He was also wearing Solo's boxers. They were the pair Quatre had given as a Christmas present this past year, decorated with polar bears wearing red socks.

"Um –"

"Don't even try to tell me you took it when you moved out," Quatre warned.

"Well –"

"How many times have you complained about Solo wearing your clothes? How many times have you said you NEVER wear his clothes?"

"Well –"

Quatre pushed past Duo into the house.

"Solo! I know you're here, don't bother hiding!" He shouted.

"Okay," came the muffled reply from the bedroom.

Quatre turned and advanced on Duo as he closed the door.

"You – I can't believe you!"

"Like you're one to talk," Duo shot back, angrily crossing his arms.

Quatre started to retort, but then shook his head.

"Not important. Right now, Trowa's about to come out – at a press conference – on ESPN – because he's convinced it's the right thing to do."

"Well, damn. I never figured he'd do that."

"Exactly! We've got to stop him!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. We've got to stop him? Why?"

Quatre started to pace.

"Because he's about to ruin his life! If he goes public, they'll connect him to you – and then you'll both go down I flames. And he thought he could – I don't know, somehow get me back if he did this! It's all wrong, Duo."

"Huh."

Duo crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter in the kitchen.

Quatre turned, suddenly realizing what he had said.

"Duo –"

The braided man held up a hand.

"No, no. Go ahead. If my career is ruined – according to you – then it's ruined. No need to dance around it."

"Duo –"

"Look, Quatre, I get that you feel… responsible for what Tro's about to do, but you aren't. He made this decision without you, right? So… he's gonna do it. Just – look, if it matters to you, then support him. Don't try to stop him."

Quatre frowned, considering the words.

"But –"

"Seriously, Q. If you care, then back him up. That's all you can do."

Solo started down the stairs, wearing Duo's boxers and nothing else. They were a bit tight across his thighs, and Quatre smirked slightly.

Duo flushed, looking between the two.

Quatre cleared his throat uneasily.

"Well, I guess… I've got a press conference to get to – starts at ten, if you're interested in watching it…." He made a speedy escape, leaving Duo and Solo to stare at each other.

Solo started to chuckle and crossed the room to Duo, hugging him from behind.

"Not exactly a romantic morning," he murmured, biting at Duo's ear.

Duo pushed him away and turned to look at him.

"No. This –" he gestured between them, "this can't happen. I'm with Heero and you're – you're with fucking Sullivan, right?"

Solo arched an eyebrow.

"Heero didn't seem to be under that impression," he said, approaching Duo again, who backed away.

"Yeah, well, he was pissed. Which is sort of… well, whatever. But – no – no, Solo!" Duo walked around the couch, putting it between them.

Solo smirked.

"You're acting like a kid," he said, grinning.

"Yeah. Well, look, Solo, we're not – we've moved on, right? We're with other people, now. And – damn it, Solo, stay the hell away from me. You know I can't argue with you when you've –"

"When I've?"

Duo glared at him, then sat down on the couch.

"Solo, I just got over you. I'm with Heero now, I'm happy with him. He – he pushes me. We're a team."

"We're a team," Solo argued, sitting down beside Duo but keeping his distance.

"Not like – you were right, Solo, about me. About us. I need someone who challenges me, and he does that."

Solo scowled, clearly unhappy to have his own words thrown back at him.

"He might challenge you, but does he support you? Think about what you just said to Quatre – does HE have your back?"

Duo frowned.

"I'm just saying, Duo, he's not here right now. He doesn't want to talk to you until the season's over. That… isn't exactly supporting you. And right now – you've thrown yourself to the lions, David, you could use a little support."

"Solo –"

"Fine, okay. We're done, if that's what you want. But – these past few months have been hell, Duo. Even if we're not together, we're still us, right?"

Duo couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, well…"

"Doesn't mean I don't miss the sex," Solo added, stretching back against the couch.

Duo kept his eyes riveted to the ground in front on him.

"Yeah, well…"

"Also doesn't mean I'm not going to try to get you back," Solo added, standing suddenly.

Duo looked up at him, shocked and annoyed.

Solo just smirked and, leaning down, kissed him.

"I'm gonna need my clothes back!" He called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Duo sat staring after him.

* * *

Wufei sat in the bullpen, watching as Heero hit a grand slam and resigning himself to a night off-duty.

Trant sat down beside him, chewing his gum loudly and smirking.

Not bothering to look over at the rookie, Wufei shook his head.

"Can you believe it, man? Fuckin' queers – bet they're screwin' each other," Trant muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Trant looked over at Wufei.

"You know, those Boston guys – Maxwell and Barton. Queers, both of 'em."

Wufei arched an eyebrow at him.

"And?"

Trant flushed.

"And – it just figures. The way Barton acted when I hit Maxwell. Probably afraid I'd messed up his pretty face or something."

Wufei briefly debated whether or not Trant could be convinced of his own stupidity, and decided it was a lost cause.

"I mean – gross, right? Who the hell wants to get fucked up the ass? I mean, maybe they've got small dicks. That might not hurt as much, right? Or maybe –"

Disgusted, Wufei glared at the rookie, who promptly shut up, but continued to look thoughtful on the subject.

When the game ended twenty minutes later, Wufei left the bullpen and made it to the clubhouse in record time.

Heero was swarmed with reporters asking about how much competition he thought Duo Maxwell was. One reporter was even bold enough to ask for his comment on the recent "coming out party" the Red Sox seemed to have.

Wufei listened closely to his response, smirking at the anger in Heero's voice.

"To be honest, I don't see the point in either Barton or Maxwell making their announcements. Their sexual preferences are their own, and it's a private matter. It shouldn't matter to anyone whether or not they prefer men to women. Judging them based on that is about as bad as judging them based on race – or their age – or what flavor of ice cream they prefer. As long as they keep it off the field, who cares."

Most of the reporters were shell-shocked. This was probably the longest any of them had heard Heero talk. It was also probably the most ANY player had said or would say in reference to Maxwell and Barton.

"I've really got to shower now," Heero said, abruptly ending any attempts at a follow-up question.

Wufei casually started stripping as the reporters looked his way, so they instead headed off to attack Jeter. Heero and Wufei exchanged smirks at the fleeing reporters before each heading to the shower stalls.

Once clean and dressed in street clothes they headed for the player's entrance.

"I think we broke up," Heero confided after checking to see if anyone was within earshot.

Wufei arched an eyebrow as he considered this.

"Is that where you ran off to yesterday?"

Heero nodded.

"Went up to Boston. Solo was already there. It –" Heero shook his head and stopped himself. "It's more complicated than I thought."

"And you don't want complicated?"

"Not in September."

Wufei chuckled and let the conversation lag as they stood with the press of people waiting to board the subway.

Both were silent for the ride, speaking only when approached by fans who wanted autographs. They both got off at Wufei's stop, having made prior plans to get slightly drunk and indulge in Thai take-out.

"How is Hilde?" Heero asked.

Wufei shrugged, uneasy with the shift in conversation.

"She's… still pushing me away bit by bit. We're going to have a family dinner in Boston next weekend, after the final game."

Heero nodded thoughtfully but didn't pursue the topic.

Wufei called in the order and passed Heero a beer from the fridge.

"You said Solo was already there?" Wufei pressed.

Heero scowled.

"He was already there – already inside."

"He has a key to Duo's new apartment? Wait, I didn't think you had been there yet."

"I haven't. And I didn't think he did."

"You think he wants to…"

"Could you blame him? It's only through his stupidity that I had the chance to be with Duo at all. Figures he's come to his senses now." Heero shook his head and stared at the beer in his hand, tracking the perspiration down the side.

Suddenly he chuckled mirthlessly.

"I told him it was my job to hold his hand, and then I told him to leave me alone until the end of the season."

"Nice, Yuy. That's classic."

Heero saluted Wufei with his beer and then took a healthy swig.

"When are you going to call him and start groveling?"

Heero shrugged.

"I'll wait until we go up to play next weekend. He's always in a better mood after a game."

Wufei nodded.

"I just hope Solo hasn't made his move before then."

The look on Heero's face was dark as he considered that.

"Yeah."

* * *

Trowa had finally convinced Catherine that he didn't need her to come visit and offer moral support. He mentally rolled his eyes. Sisters were fine – except for the part where they felt the need to completely restructure your life and protect you from everything.

The press conference had gone easier than either he or Dorothy expected. After Duo's set-up, the press seemed to have had the chance to recover and do their research before Trowa confronted them with his own announcement.

It didn't make it any less exhausting, and the following debriefing by the Red Sox front office had been hellish. He could only imagine how painful it had been for Duo, who was already on the General Manager's, Theo Epstein, shit list for refusing to get his hair cut to a more manageable length.

Epstein had been frank when dealing with Trowa.

"You're an outstanding pitcher. We want to keep you. But if I get any word of… anything, we're going to have to trade you."

" 'Anything'?" Dorothy had questioned, injecting enough sarcasm into her voice that Epstein actually flinched. "What exactly do you mean by that, Mr. Epstein."

"Ms. Catalonia, this is a very new situation for the management team. We'll try to be as accommodating as possible, but…"

"But?" Dorothy clearly wasn't going to let him off easily.

"But it would have been nice to have some advance warning," Epstein was starting to get angry.

"It isn't as though this changes his ability to pitch," Dorothy said.

"Yes, but –"

Dorothy had efficiently and painfully steamrolled over Epstein. Though she had probably done the same the day before, for Duo, it was still impressive.

Coming home to his apartment had been a bad idea: his voicemail was full and Duo had somehow managed to break into his apartment and had left a "condom bouquet" as the tag said. It was a bouquet, much like a floral arrangement, but instead of flowers it was multi-colored, multi-scented, and multi-featured condoms. The attached note had also been classic Duo.

'Glad you've joined the club. You can be VP, I've already called dibs on President. – Duo'

Quatre and Catherine had left the majority of the messages and Trowa had deleted most of them without listening, saving only the latest from each and playing those before calling Catherine.

The message from Quatre had been painful. Full of promises, a few excuses. Everything Trowa had wanted to hear from the blonde weeks ago but now, after finding him with another man, seemed meaningless. In the end, Quatre had asked to meet with him and talk.

Trowa frowned as he thought that over. He couldn't imagine how talking with Quatre was going to make anything better, especially if he had to look at Quatre and the seeming sincerity in his eyes.

He picked up the phone and dialed, rethinking each number as he did so.

"Trowa?" Quatre answered on the third ring.

"When do you want to talk?"

"Anytime! Whenever you want to."

"Next Friday, after the Yankees game?"

"Sure. That sounds – thank you, Trowa."

"Yeah."

Trowa hung up before the conversation could become more involved.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to resist Quatre, not if the blonde really tried to win him back. That didn't mean he was convinced Quatre loved him, however.

* * *

TBC….

Winding down – maybe two or three chapters left.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews! I'm so glad that some of you have been tempted to watch baseball by this fic.

Warning: This chapter is extra long.

Out on Strikes 13/?

"First things first – he was a horrible choice for TR."

"What? No, no – you only remember the old, fat, presidential TR. DiCaprio did a really good job at it – you should read the book, it's good."

"Yeah, um, I'll add it to my reading list."

"Whatever. You're the reason people think athletes are dumb jocks, you know."

"Oh yeah? Well, you're the reason people think that cops are – "

"Are what, Maxwell?"

Duo suddenly grinned and reached up to muss Solo's hair.

They were wading through the crowds leaving the theatre for "The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt." A movie that Duo never would have gone to see on his own, but found he could sit through it and even enjoy it with Solo.

That didn't mean it hadn't been an awkward night. Their first "date" as friends had started off badly. Solo had tried to kiss him when he opened the door, which Duo had poorly evaded and they had both smashed their noses. Then Duo had noticed what Solo was wearing – the tight, black jeans that were Duo's favorite. And a blue-button up that also happened to be Duo's favorite.

Dinner had been decent. They had gone to a hole-in-the-wall Italian place run by an immigrant family who had known both Maxwells since their days on the street when Duo had tried to steal a loaf of bread from the kitchen. So the food had been excellent and they had been left alone by the other patrons. Which gave Solo plenty of time to try and hold Duo's hand, or brush against Duo's leg. Solo had always been good at casual flirting, something that Heero and Duo had yet to attempt in public, and he seemed to have no problem reminding Duo of that fact. No matter how often Duo glared or rebuffed him.

The movie had actually been the better part of the evening. Both held movies and mass in the same category of holiness and so neither spoke or attempted to distract the other from the dialogue. The one time that Solo's hand touched his as they reached for the popcorn at the same time, Solo actually whispered an apology.

Now that the evening was winding to a close and they were walking back to Duo's apartment – Solo insisted on accompanying him for his own protection – it was once again awkward for Duo.

"Think you and Heero will hang out tomorrow night after the game?" Solo asked, sounding far less confident and cheerful than he had before.

Duo shrugged.

"If he'll talk to me, then yeah. I want to."

Solo sighed and kicked at a rock on the road.

"I figured as much. If he doesn't – or if things go badly and you want to talk, or drink, or anything else – feel free to give me a call." Solo looked across at Duo, who managed to nod.

"Yeah. Solo – "

"I know you're still hung up on him. I'm willing to wait this out."

Duo chuckled.

"I never figured you'd be the one chasing after me," he mused.

"Well, life's strange, I guess."

They had reached Duo's apartment and Solo walked him to the door.

"Can I come in for a cup of coffee?" He asked, his grin wide and disarming.

"Are you clothes going to come off?"

Solo paused, pretending to consider.

"I'm not going to take them off," he said at last.

Now Duo took a moment to consider.

"I guess," he shrugged and ducked the playful slap Solo aimed at his head.

"We should have done this before," Solo said later as they sat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and mugs abandoned on the kitchen counter.

Duo nodded sleepily.

"Yeah, I always wanted to try sitting on a couch before."

Solo threw a pillow at him and Duo remained still, allowing it to bounce off his face.

"I meant dating."

"We aren't dating."

"Sure we are. I'm trying to woo you – you're trying to protect your chastity. It's almost like courtly love."

"I'm trying to protect my what?!"

Duo launched across the couch, tackling Solo. The two fell to the floor and rolled over, grappling for control.

The doorbell rang.

"Damn it. Who the hell comes around at eleven in the night?"

Duo reluctantly got to his feet, breathing hard. He started to approach the door, but Solo grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Wait a sec. Let me grab my gun and get hidden."

"Your what?"

"It could be O'Grady," Solo said, all playfulness gone.

"Oh. Yeah." Duo waited until Solo had positioned himself out of sight before he approached the door.

Heero was on the stoop, a duffel slung over his shoulder and his expensive suit looking slightly wrinkled.

"Heero – hi."

"Duo."

There was a moment of silence before Heero shifted on his feet and repositioned the shoulder strap of his bag.

"Can I come in?" Heero asked at last.

Duo stood aside and waved him in, looking over to the hall to see if Solo was still hidden. He was. Duo mentally groaned.

"I've got hotel reservations – so don't feel pressured about anything I'm about to say," Heero started after he carefully put down his bag.

Duo leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on Heero but also putting himself in position to see Solo, should he choose to make himself known.

"I told you I didn't want to be distracted – that I needed to focus on the rest of the season."

"Yeah, I remember that part," Duo said, wincing at how bitter he sounded.

"I was wrong."

"Really? Hitting four homers in eight games and starting up a hitting streak is how you play when you're distracted?"

"I was wrong to think that you would be a distraction. I was wrong to abandon you."

Duo arched an eyebrow at this and waited for Heero to elaborate.

"These last two weeks – you and Trowa have been through hell."

"Chris Matthews wasn't that bad," Duo said.

"He told you that you were defying God."

Duo shrugged. "Maybe I am."

"Don't say that. You aren't – you know you aren't."

"Really? I seem to recall the good book having some words to say about sodomy."

"I'm not getting into a theological debate with you, especially if you're going to be this way."

Duo pushed himself off the wall and stalked over to where Heero stood.

"What way I am being?"

"You've every right to be angry, I'll give you that. But you don't have to come back at everything I say with some smart ass remark. Just listen, will you?"

There was anger in Heero's eyes, but he also seemed to have resigned himself to Duo's comments.

"Sure, whatever, man." Duo crossed his arms and stood in front of Heero, waiting for him to continue.

"I should have been there for you. You – you would have been there for me. But I pushed you away, and I wish I could take that back and change what I said. I can't. I'm not asking you to forget that, just, give me another chance."

"So I take it you're satisfied with the way I've been playing? Think I haven't been attempting to throw any games? Have I sufficiently made up for the stain I put on this "game I claim to love" ? Or am I still supposed to be working on that?" Duo demanded.

Heero shook his head as he heard his own words used against him.

"I was also wrong to say those things to you. I realize – you did what you had to. You did what you did to prevent them from using you. It was pretty brilliant."

"Yeah, tell that to the Boys and Girls club."

Heero frowned. "What?"

"They cut my add. You remember, I made a commercial for them?" Heero nodded. "Got a call from them a few days ago, they decided not to air it – you know, didn't want to give people the wrong impression about them. At least they kept my donation."

"Duo, I'm sorry. I know how much it meant to you, to have them ask you to do that."

"Yeah. Well, Trowa's not in much better shape."

Heero nodded.

"Wufei's still fuming about the article in Newsweek about him."

"Heero – you've got to trust me on stuff."

"So do you."

Duo grinned lopsidedly.

"We're pretty stupid, you know?"

Heero snorted.

"You might be – I happen to be fairly brilliant."

"Oh, whatever. You call protecting Trant brilliant?"

Heero sobered at the mention of the pitcher.

"He's pitching tomorrow night," he said to Duo.

"I know, I checked the matchup on –"

"If he comes inside again, I'm gonna kick his ass. And this time I'm not gonna let you stop me, Yuy."

Heero smirked.

"You can try, Maxwell. I'll just have to stop you again."

Duo grinned again and jerked a shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

"Want anything? I know airplane food – even Yankee's chartered plane food – can't be good. And you flew in from, where, Texas?"

Heero nodded.

"If you have any fresh greens – "

"Yeah. Got that crap you like, with the red stuff."

"You don't mind?"

"No, help yourself."

Heero nodded again.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go for it – oh, forgot you haven't really been given the tour. Third door on the right, up the stairs."

"Thank you, Duo." Heero paused, searching for something on Duo's face.

The braided man grinned and reached out to the catcher, placing one hand on his jaw.

"No problem, Heero." He leaned in and kissed Heero, savoring the feel of the other man's lips and the tickle of the stubble on his chin.

Heero pulled away gently after a moment, looking somehow happier and more at ease.

"I'll be right back." He disappeared down the hall and Duo heard him walk up the stairs.

"That was touching," Solo muttered.

Duo spun around.

"Shit. I'd forgotten you were here. You've got to go." Duo looked around frantically for Solo's shoes, found them and threw them at him.

Solo chuckled.

"Duo – "

"Shh! Keep your voice down."

"Duo, this is ridiculous. Tell him you and I – "

"Were what? If he sees you here, what's he supposed to think?"

"He could ask you, instead of jumping to conclusions."

"And what am I gonna say?" Duo paused, then shook his head. "Oh, Solo? He just took me out to dinner and a movie and then came back for a cup of coffee. We were in the middle of a wrestling match when you showed up. You know, stuff ex-boyfriends do."

Solo smirked.

"When you put it that way… can we do it again?"

"No!"

Solo frowned.

"Why not? If it's just something ex-boyfriend's do?"

"Look, I get that you want me back – I get that you messed up. Obviously. But I want him, Solo. He's the one I want to be with."

"Are you sure about that?" Solo stepped closer to Duo, looking down at him, searching his face for some sign.

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because he's – because he knows what I'm thinking. Sometimes, it's a bit creepy, how well he knows me already."

"I know you."

Duo shook his head.

"It's different. It's like he's in my head. Plus he's a hell of a drinker. And he can play ball better than damn near anyone. He's -"

Solo pulled Duo against him and kissed him.

"You gonna tell me he's better at this than me, too?"

"Solo."

"You're describing a friend, Duo. A best friend. You haven't said anything about chemistry. What's he like in bed? How well does he know you then?" Solo traced the outside of Duo's ear and trailed his fingers down Duo's neck, tracing over the sensitive spot beside his collar bone. "Does he?"

Duo shivered.

"Not as well as you, no. But we were together for twelve years. We had a lot of practice."

Solo frowned.

"What does that mean? You didn't answer the question. When he kisses you – does it make you lose focus? When he touches you, does it make you want more?"

"Solo."

The blonde man smirked slightly and leaned down to kiss Duo again, but the braided man pulled away, catching sight of something over Solo's shoulder.

Heero.

Solo must have seen the panic in Duo's eyes because he turned around, spotting the other man.

"Solo," Heero greeted him evenly.

"Heero."

Duo looked from one man to the other, trying to read them. This was definitely not good.

"I'm sorry, I overheard the last part of your conversation."

"Yeah?" Solo said, crossing his arms and looking down at him.

"Yes." Heero looked over at Duo.

"Would you like me to leave?" He asked.

Duo swallowed hard and looked between the two men. Solo arched an eyebrow, looking somewhat expectant. Heero's face was guarded.

"No. Solo was just on his way, actually."

The blonde man's jaw clenched.

"Okay. Alright, then." He dropped his shoes to the ground and stepped into them, managing to do so without having to bend over. Once finished, he turned to Heero and held out his hand.

After staring at it for a moment, Heero accepted it.

"You take care of him, Yuy. If you ever hurt him again, I'll have to kill you."

Heero accepted the warning solemnly.

"I'll try not to let that happen."

Solo nodded and turned back to Duo. He grinned crookedly.

"You'd better kick this guy's ass in the games this weekend, Duo. He'll be insufferable if the Yankees win the division title."

Duo managed a weak chuckle.

Solo nodded again and left, grabbing his jacket at the door.

After a second, he poked his head back in.

"Make sure you lock up, Duo. O'Grady could still – "

"I know. I'll take care, Solo."

Duo walked over to the door and closed it again, locking it. He leaned his head against it, trying to stall the inevitable discussion with Heero over what he had just witnessed.

He turned around, still leaning against the door, and hazarded a glance at him.

The expression on his face was unreadable.

"Look, that was – that was really, really bad. It looked bad – it had to. And it was bad. I'll admit, after you dumped me – which you kinda did – he was here. And he, well – the point is, he's been trying to get back together. And I've told him no. I told him I want you, but we've been hanging out – and he's been pretty honest about what he wants from me – but it was nice, having my friend back. He was here, before you got here tonight – and I know that looked like something that –" Duo trailed off as he looked up at Heero again.

He was laughing. He sobered at Duo's shocked expression.

"That part about us trusting each other – it means I'm not going to ask what that was about. All I'm going to ask you is this: can I still have that salad?"

Duo was completely speechless for a moment.

"Um. Sure."

It wasn't the most eloquent recovery, but Heero nodded and followed him into the kitchen, catching his hand as walked past and squeezing it.

* * *

Quatre felt like an idiot.

He was late arriving at Fenway, having spent twenty minutes trying to decide what to wear, as if his attire would somehow convince Trowa of his sincerity.

When he finally made it to the stadium, both teams were on the field stretching, which meant that Quatre had completely missed both teams taking batting practice.

It only took him a moment to spot Trowa. He and Wufei were standing in the area behind home plate, discussing something. It quickly became apparent who they were talking about when Brian Trant, the Yankees newest pitcher and headhunter, walked past, shooting Trowa a filthy look.

Quatre walked over to the three pitchers.

"I'm surprised, Chang. I thought you had that chick – remember the one you kissed and the papers printed the photos? That was a girl, right?" Trant speaking, but it was clear that neither Trowa nor Wufei were paying him much attention.

"Sure, ignore me. While you can. Hope Maxwell's learned to duck since last time," he added, grinning and waving as he turned.

And ran right into Quatre.

"Mr. Winner," Trant greeted him, stopping, obviously expected Quatre to offer an interview.

"Did you know I went to school at Chapel Hill?" Quatre asked.

"Er – no." Trant appeared confused with the non-sequiter.

"Duo Maxwell also went there."

Trant started to look uneasy.

"Which is one of the reasons he's my best friend. The other reason? When I came out, he was the one friend who stood behind me. So, if I hear you saying anything derogatory about him – or anyone, for that matter – and their sexual orientation, I can pretty much guarantee that you won't be mentioned in ANY post-season article. EVER."

Trant paled.

"But – you can't do that."

"No? Don't you read the papers? I just got promoted at I'm the senior editor."

"So?"

"That means all the articles that are written have to go through me, before they get posted. Outside of box-scores and stats, no one will see your name. Unless you keep your mouth shut, that is."

Trant scowled.

"You can't –"

"Sure I can. I just did."

"But –"

"Shouldn't you be warming up? First pitch is in twenty minutes."

Trant stood for a few seconds, scowling at Quatre, before he stalked off.

After he left Wufei came over and clapped him on the back.

"Good job," he said before walking off towards the bullpen.

Quatre looked over at Trowa, who was shaking his head and smiling.

"You've got to learn to control yourself better, Quatre. If he was smarter he would go to some tabloid with what you just said."

"If he was smarter he would already know to keep his mouth shut," Quatre groused.

Trowa chuckled, startling Quatre. He hadn't heard Trowa do that in quite a while, and he had forgotten how much he liked the sound.

"Are we still on for tonight? After the game?" Quatre asked.

Trowa nodded.

"Yes. We'll talk then."

Quatre smiled brightly and sighed in relief.

"Good. So, quick interview?"

Trowa smiled slightly.

"Sure."

Quatre whipped out his tape-recorder.

"You've had a phenomenal year – twenty-two wins and only one loss. You ERA is amazing. What do you think has allowed you to have such a great rookie year?"

"My team-mates. They've done all the hard work. I just get out there and throw the ball. They always bail me out when I make mistakes, and they inspire me to give it my best every time I take the mound."

"And Duo Maxwell? The two of you recently came out to the public. Have the two of you been treated any differently now?"

Trowa shook his head.

"No. This is a great team – a great bunch of guys. We're all here to play baseball, and that's what we do. That other stuff – we leave it at home."

"Going into tonight, the Red Sox are tied with the Yankees. That means whoever wins the series this weekend will be the division winner. Even so, the other team will get the Wild Card and also advance to the playoffs. So, is the pressure off because of that?"

"No. It's on now more than ever. The Yankees have won the Division for the last twelve years, I'd like to put a stop to that. Plus, the Wild Card has to play Seattle. Neither one of us wants to do that."

"Thank you, Trowa. Good luck tonight." Quatre turned off the tape-recorder.

"I'll see you after the game?" Trowa said, putting his hand on Quatre's shoulder.

The blonde nodded and Trowa walked off.

It wasn't long before he was ushered off the field so the game could get underway. Instead of taking his usual place in the press box, Quatre made his way to the "will call" ticket booth. Duo always reserved two tickets for every game. Solo had used them before, usually bringing Hilde along. Quatre doubted that Solo had come to a game in quite a while, even if it seemed like things were settling between him and Duo.

He was surprised that only one ticket was available, then realized that Hilde was probably there to watch Wufei.

But it was Solo who was sitting in the red seat some twenty feet behind the Red Sox dugout.

"Hey," Quatre said as he approached.

"Hey yourself. Why aren't you up above with the air conditioning?"

Quatre shrugged.

"I thought I'd sit with the masses tonight. There's something in the air – I want to be close to the action."

Solo nodded.

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I almost stayed home tonight, but –"

"What do you mean? I thought things were…"

"He chose Heero." Solo shook his head. "I didn't think he would. But he did."

"Solo –"

"No sweat. Gotta think positive thoughts, right? Got some Yankees to destroy."

Quatre nodded, grinning at the forced bravado.

"Absolutely."

By the time Trowa took the mound for the first pitch, the Red Sox fans had worked themselves into a frenzy by trading insults with the few brave Yankees fans who had attended the game. A hush fell over the crowd as the tall pitcher threw a few practices pitches, and it was almost silent as he threw the first pitch.

It blew past Johhny Damon for a strike and the crowd roared. Damon had been reviled in Boston ever since he signed with the Yankees as a free agent in 2006.

Trowa struck out Damon, and then Jeter. Heero approached the plate and the fans piled abuse on him, many still angry about the altercation between him and Duo.

Quatre wasn't surprised when Solo joined in, shouting at the Yankees catcher.

Heero took two strikes but swung hard at Trowa's next pitch, sending it just to the right of Pesky's pole, causing distress until it was called foul.

The next pitch he swung at again, protecting the plate, and managed to push the ball just into right left field, earning a base.

The crowd continued to jeer as Alex Rodriguez stepped up to the plate.

Suddenly, Quatre had a very bad feeling. He stood, which earned him a few jeers of his own. Uneasily, Solo stood as well.

"What's up?"

"I don't know – something. I've got a bad feeling about this."

Solo frowned.

"What do you – oh shit!"

Trowa threw his first pitch, a beautiful curveball that usually left power-hitters watching it speed past for a strike. But Rodriguez swung at the pitch, catching it right on the thick part of the bat. It was a sharp line drive that went right down the center of the field. Right at Trowa.

The only thing that kept Quatre from charging onto the field was Solo, who held him back even as the crowd surged to their feet.

Rodriguez took first, touching the bag and staying there, but Heero, who had started for second as soon as the ball was hit, didn't bother to attempt to make third base.

Duo ran in from the outfield, even as the trainers gathered at the mound.

By this time Trowa was back on his feet, helped up by Varitek. The big catcher had one hand on his shoulder, supporting him, as Trowa held a hand over his nose, trying to stop the flow of blood.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ," Solo said. "That ball could've killed him if it had hit his eye."

Quatre didn't want to think about how or why Solo knew that.

"Looks like he's okay, though. Probably just a broken nose."

Quatre winced, staring at the field.

Trowa was standing still, looking at one of the trainers and frowning. The manager, Terry Francona, joined them, gesturing to the dugout.

Trowa was now shaking his head, and pointing at one of the trainers. Francona pulled the trainer aside and they spoke briefly before turning back to the group on the mound.

"Man, he's tough," Solo said as the trainer took hold of Trowa's nose.

"He is not going to let him reset it – you idiot!"

From the look on Trowa's face, it was obvious he was in a lot of pain, but the trainer reset his nose without the pitcher making any sound loud enough to carry to the stands.

"Idiot," Quatre muttered again, watching angrily as the trainer mopped up the blood from Trowa's face.

Duo and Varitek both clapped Trowa on the back before they returned to their respective positions, and the game was underway again.

"Complete idiot," Quatre said as he sat down after Trowa struck out Robinson Canoe.

"Tough one, though," Solo said beside him.

"Yeah."

* * *

Duo walked to the plate slower than he usually did, trying to memorize the feel of this. The excitement, the hum of energy. This is what it felt like to go into the last weekend of the season, neck and neck with the Yankees.

Heero was standing behind home, adjusting his mask.

"Nice night for you fellas to lose," Duo said to him.

"Trowa okay?" Heero asked, making no pretense at animosity.

"Yeah – lot of blood, though. He's gonna have to change uni's. Also said his face hurts like hell."

Heero nodded thoughtfully.

"Is he still going to pitch next inning?"

"Yeah, unless Francona finds some rope to tie him down with."

Duo got into his batting stance and Heero dropped into a crouch behind home plate.

"He better not throw inside, Yuy," Duo said firmly.

Heero didn't respond.

Trant threw the first pitch on the outside edge for a strike. Duo cursed, but Heero relaxed, deciding that Trant was actually going to try and strike out the Red Sox tonight instead of decapitate them.

The second pitch proved him wrong.

It caught Duo square on the back as he tried to turn away.

"Damn it!" Duo dropped his bat and grudgingly took first, glaring at Trant as he jogged down the base path.

Duo took a sizeable lead on first as Cora came up to bat and, as soon as the ball left Trant's hand, flew towards second.

He knew that Heero had one of the best arms in the league, but he had beat out his throws before.

He reached the bag just as Jeter did, but the shortstop leapt aside of Duo, avoiding a collision and Duo was able to reach out and touch the base a second before Jeter's glove touched him.

The ump called him safe and the crowd shouted their pleasure.

Cora hit the next pitch to Rodriguez, leaving Duo on second. The next batter, Manny Ramirez, took Trant's first two pitches for strikes before he parked the next one over the Green Monster.

Duo jogged to home and gave his team-mate a high five when he reached the plate.

Looking over his shoulder as they went into the dugout, Duo caught the look of pure hatred on Trant's face.

Duo came up to bat again the next inning, after Trowa had retired the Yankees in order, with two outs and runners on third and first.

"Think he'll hit me again?" Duo asked Heero.

"Maybe not if you stopped crowding the plate."

"Oh, and you stand a good six inches away from it yourself?"

"You don't see pitchers trying to take off MY head."

Duo snorted.

"No one ELSE tries to take off my head."

"Hn"

They prepared for Trant to pitch, Duo with more trepidation than he cared to admit. Getting drilled with fastballs wasn't exactly a pain-free activity, after all.

Surprisingly Trant pitched outside and Duo struck out.

"Hn," Heero said again.

"Whatever, Yuy."

The game continued on, Red Sox 2, Yankees 0, until the seventh inning, when Duo once again came to bat.

Trant's first pitch was inside for a ball, but not close enough to worry either Duo or Heero.

The second pitch missed high.

The third pitch collided with his batting helmet. Again.

And again, Duo charged the mound, pushing past Heero.

This time, however, Trant met him halfway.

"Fuckin' queer!" He shouted.

That stopped Duo cold, allowing Heero to catch up to him.

"You're disgusting. You should be thrown out – not allowed to play. Probably get off on seeing your team mates in the shower, don't you? Fuckin' pervert."

"You probably got molested by your priest or whatever, right? That what made you do it? That why you like it up the ass? Sick fuckin' Catholics, you outta –"

Duo's fist caught Trant squarely on the mouth. Heero didn't bother to restrain him, knowing that that one hit was it.

The Yankees had gathered on the mound, by then, and most had heard Trant. A rush of motion and sound signaled the arrival of the Red Sox bench, ready to back up Duo.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the players looked at each other, trying to figure out if they were supposed to be fighting.

"Asshole," Jeter said, glaring at Trant and approaching Duo. He put out his hand to the other man.

Hesitantly, Duo shook it.

"We're with you, man. Forget him." And he winked.

Duo thought he might be hallucinating and wondered if that ball had hit him harder. Maybe he was still on the ground by home plate, twitching? Drooling all over himself, probably.

"Can we keep playing now?" Heero asked, interrupting Duo.

He looked over at him. The catcher's mask was pushed back, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat. And he was wearing that hideous Yankees' rode uniform. Never before had he looked so attractive to Duo.

Forcibly he tore his gaze away from Heero's and nodded.

The home plate umpire took Duo aside as he returned to home plate.

"I'm not going to throw you out, this time, Maxwell. But you charge the mound again and you're gone."

"Yes sir."

Duo swallowed hard and walked over to Heero.

"I hope you're up for some sex tonight, Heero, cuz I'm this close to ripping your clothes off right now." Duo held two fingers just barely apart to demonstrate.

"Go back to first base, Duo."

Duo grinned and started to jog backwards towards the base, watching as Heero shook his head and put the catchers mask back over his face.

Cora flew out to left to end the inning, and as Duo and Heero crossed paths, the Yankee catcher stopped.

"I guess that means you won't complain when I start groping you on the drive home," Heero said.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, Yuy," Duo replied and jogged past.

TBC…..


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Okay, so.. maybe three more chapters now. Or four. But definitely this story will be 20 chapters or fewer. Doesn't mean I can't be persuaded to write a sequel, however.

Warning: There's been so much sap lately, I have to balance it back out. So, be aware, there be angst ahead.

Out on Strikes 14/?

"So, the bandage looks nice."

Trowa glared at Quatre, but the blonde only smiled.

They were sitting in the back room of one of Quatre's favorite restaurants enjoying a late dinner.

"I can't believe you pitched the whole game, Trowa. You might have a concussion!"

"If I hadn't stayed in I would have been shipped off to the hospital and kept overnight for tests, and they probably wouldn't have found anything, and I would miss getting to see the game tomorrow. Not to mention our bullpen is exhausted, they needed a night without work."

"I still think Francona should have pulled you in the eighth."

"I still think Duo should have punched Trant more than once. That isn't going to change what actually happened."

Quatre sighed.

"Fine. You're right. And you did pitch well."

Trowa smirked.

"Of course I pitched well. When do I not?"

They were both quiet for a while, eating and trying to figure out how to broach the topic they were there to discuss.

"Today, when I was talking to Trant, did you hear much of what I said?" Quatre at last began.

Trowa nodded.

"Well, when I said that Duo was my only friend who stood by me after I came out, I wasn't kidding. After all, no matter how much money you've got, no other guy wants to hang around you at the risk of you trying to cop a feel. Or whatever. But Duo was there with me – he and I weren't even very close then, not even in the same crowds. But we had a creative writing class together. He overheard someone say something to me and he just – came down on the guy. And this is Duo, who's pretty clever, but hides it well, ripping into a third year journalism student. It was amazing. After that we did start to hang out – he introduced me to Solo and the three of us got a place together the next semester. We went to a party one night and I met a guy, George Sarkin. He was good-looking, smart – third year, poli-sci. We hit it off and spent the next few months pretty much attached at the hip. Thanksgiving break rolled around and I thought, now would be a great time to take him home to meet the folks. See what my sisters thought of him. I told him that I loved him and I wanted him to meet my family."

Quatre paused to sip at his water.

"He… didn't react like I thought he would. He had thought we were only "having a good time" – just fucking. I thought we had a relationship. While he was definitely attracted to guys, he couldn't imagine himself trying to settle down with one – not good for a career in politics, you know. He dumped me. Which was tough. But then he went around and told just about every available guy how clingy I was – he talked a lot when he was drunk, and it seems he spent the rest of that semester pretty drunk. It got to be where I wasn't even accepted by the gay community on campus anymore."

"They listened to the opinions of one person?" Trowa interrupted.

Quatre shrugged.

"George was pretty popular. Duo had had a falling out with Alliance around then too, over the fact that the vice-president tried to rape someone and no one would believe either Duo or the victim. So him coming to my defense only made things worse. Anyway, I didn't actually go out on another date until the next fall, when Solo and I went to Paris to do an exchange program at the Sorbonne. Since George I've… never really put myself in a position to be that devastated again. Until you."

"Until me."

"I tried to hold you at arms length. Just enjoy your company, but not let you get to me. But – Trowa – I do love you. I just, I panicked. And then you were gone, and you wouldn't talk to me."

"Quatre."

"So, I'm sorry. I know everyone thinks that I'm emotionally available, but I'm not. I don't want to be hurt again, especially by you. So – if you don't want me, say it now and I'll leave. I'll relocate to New York, maybe. Because I can't stand to be around you, Trowa. I can't look at you and not want to be with you. I need you, and if I can't have you –"

Trowa stood from the table and came around to Quatre's side, pulling the blonde to his chest as Quatre struggled to breathe.

"Sometimes you think too much" Trowa whispered into his hair.

Quatre chuckled weakly and pulled away so that he could look up at Trowa.

"Same to you."

"Hm. I suppose so. Quatre – I'm not going to leave you again, not unless you ask me to." Trowa paused, frowning. "Though I really hope you don't ask me to, because I have no idea how I would be able to live without you in my life."

Quatre laughed and rose to his feet, wiping at his eyes.

"I really hope there are no secret cameras in here to record what was just the most ridiculous scene we could have possibly made."

Trowa smirked.

"It's amazing what camera phones are capable of, though. I'm glad I thought to have mine recording. This will make excellent black-mail material when I want you to write more articles about me."

Quatre's jaw dropped.

"Trowa Barton!"

Trowa chuckled, then started to laugh loudly.

"That isn't funny!"

Which only made him laugh harder.

* * *

"Well, this isn't the least bit uncomfortable," Hilde muttered as she passed Wufei on her way into the kitchen, arms laden with dirty dishes.

Wufei took some from her and followed.

"Isn't the fact that your sister hates me and my sister hates you maybe a good sight?"

Hilde shot him an incredulous look.

"Think about it – they cancel out the opinions of each other. Which means that we're perfect for each other."

"Sally accused me of putting my baby in danger! She said I was selfish!"

"Well, Lucy accused me of abandoning you to play a 'little boy's game' instead of growing up."

Hilde scowled, but the offended expression on Wufei's face was too much and she started to laugh.

"Maybe you're right," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Of course I'm right," he replied and kissed her nose.

"I just – I wanted them to like each other."

"Hilde. Your sister is more of a Red Sox fan than… than Duo is. I think she would have preferred you to bring home a Republican to me."

Hilde laughed, then stopped suddenly.

"She moved, here." She grabbed Wufei's hand and guided it to a spot on her belly. It took a moment, but the baby shifted again.

Wufei smiled, then looked down at Hilde and the expression on her face.

He kissed her.

"I love you," he said and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Enough that we can call her –"

"No. Not enough for you to name my daughter after either Duo or Solo Maxwell."

Hilde sighed.

"I guess I'll have to settle for you loving me enough to marry me, then."

Wufei started and pulled away.

"Was that a yes?"

Hilde blinked.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Mr. Chang."

"Woman. Was that a yes or not?"

"Of course it was a yes, you stupid man. As if I was ever going to say no."

Wufei picked her up in his arms and held her tightly, causing Hilde to squeal in mild alarm as her feet left the ground.

"Told you so," said a voice from the doorway.

They turned to see Sally and Lucy leaning on opposite sides of the doorway, smirking at them.

Wufei carefully set Hilde down.

"You told her what?" Hilde demanded of Lucy.

"That you would say yes."

Both Wufei and Hilde frowned.

Which made the two women laugh.

"Hilde, seriously. I work for a credit company. If my little sister calls and tells me she's pregnant and, oh, by the way, can I come up and visit the weekend the Yankees are in town? The same little sister who had her picture in the tabloids when she was caught kissing a certain Yankees pitcher on the L-platform? What do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to investigate his credit history and I'm going to track down his family – which was very difficult to do. And I'm going to find out if he's the right guy for her. Which Sally was very helpful in doing." Lucy nodded to the other woman, who nodded back.

"Anyway, she bet twenty dollars that you would make him wait until after the Yankees won the World Series." Lucy snorted. "Which is ridiculous, especially since the Sox are bound to win this year, so I bet her twenty you would say yes today. We pretended to hate you just for fun, though."

Hilde stood shell-shocked, but Wufei recovered quickly.

"I swear, Sally, if you weren't Meilin's sister I would – "

"Yeah, yeah, Chang. I've heard it all before. Now, can we get down to the serious discussion of when and where the wedding will take place?"

Just then Hilde's cell phone started to ring.

"Saved by the bell," she muttered as she walked past Wufei.

She looked at the caller ID and saw Solo's work number.

"Lieutenant Maxwell?" She used her most professional voice as she answered the call. IA had made taping office calls a new fad, and she didn't want either of them to get in trouble or accused of having a relationship that might get them reassigned.

"Sergeant Shiebecker. We've been given the go to stage a raid on O'Grady. He just received a shipment of cocaine and we've got his location."

"Sir, I've been removed from active duty," Hilde reminded Solo.

"Yes, I know." Solo sighed into the phone. "I'd like you at HQ, if you can make it, to keep an eye on things and pass along updates. It feels strange going into the field without you, but – "

"No problem, Lieutenant. I can be at HQ in ten minutes. Can you wait that long?"

"Yeah, we'll start moving out of here in five and shouldn't reach the location for another ten."

"Already. I'll call you when I get to HQ."

"Copy that."

Solo ended the call and Hilde turned back to her quests.

"I'm sorry to run – work. But I should be able to meet you at the game, tonight." She walked over to Wufei and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck tonight."

Lucy snorted.

"I can't believe you've corrupted her this much. Wishing luck to a Yankee. If our parents were alive, Hilde, Dad would never forgive you for this."

Hilde rolled her eyes.

"Love you too, Luce."

* * *

When Heero and Duo returned from their run there was a message on the answering machine for Duo's home phone. Since very few people had the number he decided to listen to it as Heero went into the kitchen to make them a light lunch.

"Duo, it's Solo. First thing, I want to apologize for Thursday night. I was a bit of an ass, as usual. Second thing, we're about to move on O'Grady – don't tell anyone, though, or I could lose my job – so I've got to put a few things in order. My will is still where we keep them, there's a spare key to the apartment in the middle drawer of my desk. There are two notes, waiting for you, in the Bible. One is the old one, but there's a new one, too. Also, there's one for Hilde, in Leviticus. I know I haven't left you one of these in a while, but – I remembered our agreement. This is going to be a tough one, David. So if I don't make it to the game tonight, I would consider it a personal favor if you hit a homer for me. See you around."

"What was that about?" Heero asked, coming into the living room.

"It was – something I made him promise to do when he first made detective. Whenever he goes in the field, and it's going to be dangerous, he calls me and leaves a voicemail. We both thought – if he does die, it'd be nice for me to be able to hear his voice one last time." Duo shook his head.

"Are you going to be distracted tonight?" Heero asked him.

Duo shrugged.

"No more than I have been in the past, I guess. Certainly not as bad as when I was on the road in Cali playing the Angels and he left one of these. That was rough."

"Was that the series you went hitless?"

"Yeah. But then there are times when I can put it at the back of my mind. Like last time the Tigers came to Fenway and I hit two homers in the series."

Heero nodded.

"I'm surprised he calls – if it can distract you."

"I made him promise. He keeps his promises."

"What can I do?" Heero held his hand, making Duo smile as he remembered Heero saying that it was 'his job' to do that.

"Just what you're doing. Oh, if you could tell Mussina to put a nice fat one over the center of the plate tonight so I can hit it out of the park, that would be nice too."

"Hn."

Duo grinned.

"What smells good?"

"Pasta. Won't be ready for another twenty minutes. Want to shower?"

"Together?"

Heero shrugged.

"If we're gonna be wet and naked together this might take more than twenty minutes, Yuy."

"It had better not, Maxwell, I'm hungry."

Duo shrugged and stood. He stripped off his shirt, then his sweat pants, standing in front of Heero in only his boxers.

"Your loss," he said and pulled those down as well.

It took Heero a second to refocus his attention.

"Let me turn off the STOVE," he said, jumping up from the couch.

Duo smirked when Heero came back, not surprised that his shirt, pants, and boxers had disappeared.

"Now, what was that about being wet and naked?" Heero asked as he grabbed Duo.

"Let me show you," Duo said and pulled Heero towards the stairs.

* * *

Quatre grinned as Trowa jogged away from the car towards the Player's Entrance at Fenway. As soon as the tall man disappeared Quatre went in search of a parking spot.

On his walk to the stadium he received a text message.

'Don't let Duo see TV. Keep him away from radio. Solo shot. Press on it. Not good.' It was from Hilde.

"Oh hell," Quatre muttered as he cleared the text and typed a response.

'How bad?'

It took a moment before she responded.

'Operating now. Have to go. Hosp. has rules about phones. Idiots. Update when can.'

Quatre cleared out his inbox and continued on to the stadium.

This was not good.

When he reached the Red Sox clubhouse most of the players were still changing into their uniforms. Duo was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, already dressed, staring into it.

"Duo?" Quatre said as he approached.

The braided man turned around, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Q. How'd the ah, talk with Trowa go?"

"Good. It went really good. You and Heero?"

"Good. He came by Thursday night."

They both nodded and then stood in the awkward silence.

"Solo's in the field. Raid on O'Grady," Duo said after a while.

Quatre paled. Had Duo seen a report?

"He called, left one of the messages. He didn't sound too positive about it." Duo sighed and stood. "Gotta focus, though, right?"

"Right. Solo'd be pretty pissed if you let the Yankees win tonight."

"Yeah. Yeah." Duo patted Quatre's shoulder and walked off, obviously still distracted.

Trowa came up to Quatre.

"Everything okay with him?"

"Sort of. Look, try and keep his mind on the game, okay?"

Trowa frowned.

"Anything I should know?"

Quatre hesitated, but shook his head.

"Hopefully it's nothing."

"Okay." Trowa smiled at him. "What do you want to do tonight, after the game?"

Quatre shrugged.

"Rent some movies? I've still never seen Casablanca."

Trowa shook his head.

"Which I still don't understand. It's the best movie – or at least one of the best five movies ever made. And you've never seen it. Let's do that. My place or yours?"

"Actually, do you mind if I ask Duo and Heero if they want to join?"

"No. Better do it at your place, then, we didn't get the chance to clean much this morning."

Quatre blushed, remembering just how much of a mess they had made last night.

Trowa chuckled.

"Next time you think it's a good idea to have sex on – "

"Trowa!" Quatre looked around, but none of the other players were near them.

Trowa smirked and walked away.

Quatre's phone vibrated, signaling another text message.

'Dr. says not good. Hit in liver and kidney. Damage to lung.'

"Shit."

Quatre decided to head to the field and keep an eye on Duo.

The Red Sox were taking batting practice while the Yankees stretched over to one side of the field.

Quatre walked over to Heero, who was standing close to the batting cage as Duo took his turn.

Heero nodded a greeting.

"Trowa and I were going to watch Casablanca tonight – do you and Duo have plans?"

Heero shrugged, eyes focused on Duo.

"Maybe. Depends on how Solo is."

"You heard the message too."

Heero nodded.

"I can't believe he does that to Duo before games."

"Duo made him promise. He'd rather know than not."

"Still –"

"Heero, no matter how important this game is, Solo is still his best and oldest friend. He's worried about him, and he's got the right to be. If Solo denied him that – and something did happen to him – Duo would be devastated."

The other man considered the words.

"Yes. I see your point."

Heero walked away from Quatre as Duo finished and he watched the two of them talking.

After a few minutes Heero returned to the other Yankees and Duo walked over to Quatre.

"Heero told me about the movie thing – we'll try, but I want to check up on Solo first."

Quatre nodded.

His phone vibrated again, loud enough for Duo to hear.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Duo asked.

"No, I can check it later."

"Might be important. Maybe Doro's calling to tell you she's reformed her lesbian ways and wants to have your baby." The joke was weak, a testament to how worried Duo really was.

His phone vibrated again. Another message.

"Seriously. That could be important."

Quatre nodded and reluctantly pulled out his phone.

He checked the old message first.

'Coma.'

Quatre felt his blood chill.

'Tell Duo. Power of attorney. Need him here.'

Quatre looked up at Duo, who was still smirking slightly.

"Duo, Solo's been hurt."

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, this chapter was very difficult to like. I've grown rather fond of Solo, so it's not easy to finally kill him. Oh well.

Warnings: Massive angst overload.

Out on Strikes 15/?

Wufei kept a steady, heated glare focused on Trant as they sprinted across the field in front of the bullpen. The rookie caught his eye every so often but looked away quickly, jaw clenching. It gave Wufei a small sense of victory to know he could so easily intimidate the asshole, but not enough to satisfy him.

Baseball was a game, but it was also more than JUST a game. It meant something to a lot of people, and it was their job as players to not only play the game well, but to represent their country well to their fellow countrymen. Which meant not being a bigot on national television.

He tore his eyes away from Trant as they were signaled to clear the field and walked into the bullpen, taking his customary seat at the end of the bench, as far away from the other players as he could get. It helped him to focus, to clear his mind, if he distanced himself from the nervous excitement the others exuded.

What didn't help was knowing that Hilde was at her job, doing something dangerous. He didn't begrudge her that – she was a cop – but she was also pregnant. With their child. And she was his fiancée, which meant he had every right to be worried. He was also very, very slightly concerned over Solo's safety. As Hilde's partner he was important, as Heero's rival for Duo's affections he was a nuisance. Wufei suspected that he was a good man, for all of that, and hoped that he remained safe.

When the Red Sox took the field and Duo Maxwell was not in center, Wufei started to worry. The braided menace had missed two games all season, and those were due to suspensions.

He tried to concentrate on the game instead of letting his mind wander. When the call came in the seventh to start warming up he did so with efficiency.

When he took the mound in the eighth with the Yankees leading 2-1 he was cool and collected.

Heero, when he jogged to the mound to hand Wufei the ball, was obviously not.

"Where is Maxwell?" Wufei forced himself to ask.

Heero's face was dark, brows knit, and eyes empty.

"Hospital. Solo's injured."

"Hilde?" Wufei didn't even bother to hide his concern.

"She's there. Quatre too."

Wufei nodded.

"We've got a game to play. Six outs and we'll meet them there," Wufei assured him.

Heero returned to home plate, shoulders squared and swagger back.

And then Manny Ramirez hit a home run to tie the game.

* * *

Terry Francona looked ready to kill.

All season, Trowa had been known as quiet, efficient, deadly. Never had anyone seen him pace. Or chew sunflower seeds. Both of which he was doing now so furiously that most of the players on the bench had gathered at one end of the dugout, as far away as they could get. Francona, who liked to lean against the railing, could feel the breeze as Trowa walked back and forth behind him. And it was annoying.

Everyone knew that Duo Maxwell was at the hospital tonight with his adopted brother, and the entire team could feel the loss of their center fielder. But no one was taking it as hard at Trowa, who wasn't even playing tonight.

Finally, in the bottom of the twelfth, Francona had had enough. He grabbed Barton's arm – not his pitching arm – and pulled the tall man beside him.

It took a moment for Barton to calm down and his breathing to slow.

"I know it's been seven hours since Duo went to the hospital, and I know you counted on getting out of here three hours ago. But the boys are playing their hearts out for him, you realize that? They came back from 2-1 and it's 4-4 now. They're trying to get you out of here, but these damn Yankees won't cooperate. Show some support for them." Francona took the opportunity to spit out some of his chewing tobacco, both to emphasize his point and also to cancel out any pity he might have conveyed.

Trowa nodded after a moment of silence and moved away to sit down. Francona watched him out of the corner of his eye, satisfied when he clapped as Ortiz took the plate, calling encouragement.

Ortiz struck out to end the inning, and Francona looked away from Trowa, unable to witness his despair.

* * *

For the first time in his life Heero debated giving up. It was the nineteenth inning, one a.m. and the game was tied at 5-5. It would have been amazing if it had happened any other night. An epic battle between the two teams, Boston playing without their center-fielder, the heart of their team, but still battling fiercely against the evil empire.

Except that it was one a.m. and Duo had been at the hospital for eleven hours. And Heero had no idea if Solo was even… alive still.

So when he stood beside the plate for the seventh time that night he glared at the mound and was shocked to see Trowa. Trowa who had pitched a complete game the night before. Trowa who looked furious, more intimidating than usual. Trowa who wanted this game to end.

And he started to consider just giving up, letting Trowa strike him out, hoping that the other Yankees would strike out and that the Red Sox would manage to score a run. At this point in the night both sides were exhausted – bullpens raided to the point where Trowa was now pitching for the Red Sox and Wang was pitching for the Yankees.

Heero had a split second to decide: surrender or keep fighting. Both were nearly unthinkable. He just wanted the game to be over – wanted to get in a cab and go to the hospital and hold Duo.

The pitch caught him off guard, even though he was in his batting stance, and he swung the bat entirely on reflex.

It was the worst home run of his career.

* * *

Of their small group of friends, Wufei, Trowa, and Heero were easily the quietest – their other halves all did most of the talking – but the ride to the hospital was silent enough to be deafening.

Trowa was driving them in Quatre's mini-Cooper, the keys to which had been hanging in his locker with a note telling them which hospital.

It would have been ridiculous under other circumstances: three men well over six-feet tall hunched in the small vehicle, speeding down the streets at three in the morning.

Wufei had been relegated to the backseat, which he normally would have claimed to be unjust, but now took silently with bad grace.

Heero and Trowa were carefully avoiding looking at each other, and when they finally found a parking space at the hospital, walked as far away from each other as possible.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Wufei pushed past both of them and approached the nurses desk.

"Solo Maxwell," he said.

Her eyes widened as she looked up and recognized them.

"Um –"

"Where is Solo Maxwell?" Wufei demanded.

"Visiting hours are –"

"Wufei!" It was Hilde, rushing towards them, tears running down her face.

He caught her up in his arms and held her tightly.

"Wufei, he's…"

"Shhh," he rubbed her hair, trying to offer comfort and knowing he was doing a poor job.

"Where is Duo?" Heero asked, voice rough with emotion.

"Room 147," Hilde whispered against Wufei's chest.

He looked up to make sure Heero had heard, but both he and Trowa were already jogging down the hall.

Wufei guided Hilde to the chairs across from the nurses' station and sat her down, kneeling in front of her.

"Tell me," he urged her.

She shook her head and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly.

"I can't, Wufei. I can't. I should have been there with him. I'm his partner. It was my job to watch his back. I –"

"Stop it, Hilde. Don't for one second even try to think that way." He shook free of her hands and held her face, forcing her to look at him. "This was in no way your fault. You are five months pregnant, you could NOT have helped him in any way other than what you did. Tonight it was someone else's job to watch Solo's back. And maybe someone else did. You don't know what happened there – you can't. Don't try and - "

But Hilde was suddenly looking past him. Wufei turned his head to follow her gaze and spotted a tall blonde man wearing dark clothes. There was some blood on the side of his face and his hair was completely disheveled.

Hilde rose from her seat, catching the man's attention.

"Hilde! I finally got done filing reports, where is he?"

Wufei was confronted with a new side of Hilde as the woman advanced on the blonde man, her entire body vibrating with anger.

"Where were you, Mark? Where were you when he was shot? You were supposed to be out there with him – where were you?"

The blonde man paled considerably, but his voice was strong when he spoke.

"I was doing my job, Sergeant. Solo was providing cover as I went after O'Grady. We were both doing our jobs. And we got O'Grady. What were you doing, Sergeant? Manning the radio? Maybe if you had been capable –" he paused, glancing down at her rounded belly, " – then maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation." He paused again and drew in a deep breath. "I apologize, Sergeant. I understand that you are distressed, Solo was – is your partner – but he's my friend too, you aren't the only one here worried about him."

"Was," Hilde corrected woodenly. "Was my partner. Was your friend."

The man's face went blank, all expression, all life going out of him.

"No."

"He died three hours ago," Hilde continued. "Duo was here with him."

That shook the man.

"Duo – is he - ?"

"He's alive."

Solo raked a hand through his hair.

"I didn't know – "

"Didn't know what? That Solo was still in love with him? Or that –"

Wufei realized that Hilde was directing all of her anger at this man, and whether or not he deserved it, it was obvious he was in enough pain already. He took her arm and led her away.

"Hilde, let's go home," he urged her.

She looked lost, but nodded and allowed him to guide her outside.

Wufei looked over his shoulder and saw the man still standing there, staring at them, his eyes blank.

* * *

Quatre was leaning against the wall, talking urgently into his cell phone, every line of his body conveying sorrow.

Trowa and Heero approached and waited silently as he finished the conversation and hung up. He looked over at them and his eyes were red.

"Where's –"

"He went home a few hours ago. We were waiting for you to get here before –"

Trowa put a hand on Quatre's shoulder, and the shorter man covered it with his own.

"I've got your car out front," Trowa said to him, guiding him away from the wall.

"Do you want a ride?" Trowa asked Heero, the first words they had exchanged.

After a moment's pause Heero nodded and moved to follow them.

They were on the road before Trowa ventured another question.

"The hotel or Duo's place?"

"Duo's," came the immediate response.

The ride was made in complete silence, Trowa driving, Quatre staring dazedly out of the passenger window and gripping Trowa's free hand as though it could save him, and Heero sitting in the back, eyes closed.

"He was unconscious when he died," Quatre offered eventually. "So he wasn't in pain – and he was drugged."

"Did he – was he able to talk to Duo at all?" Trowa asked hesitantly.

"No. He came in unconscious and never – no. He died during a second operation, so we weren't there when…no."

Trowa squeezed their joined hands and Quatre looked over at him. He nodded and Trowa turned back to the road.

They arrived at Duo's apartment to find the lights out, but Duo's Land Rover was parked in front of the building.

The three men clamored out of the Cooper and stood of the sidewalk, suddenly indecisive.

"Tell him we'll be by in the morning – around eight or so," Quatre said, deciding for them.

Heero nodded and walked towards the stoop. He knocked instead of using the doorbell and was surprised when the door opened a few seconds later.

Duo didn't bother to wait for Heero to enter, but instead walked away from the door. Heero closed and locked it and watched Duo in the dim streetlight that filtered in from the street.

Despite the heat outside, Duo was wearing his well-worn Red Sox hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Clothes, Heero realized, he had probably had since before college. He watched Duo pace around the room for a few more minutes before he took off his shoes and set them by the door. He caught Duo as he made another loop and pulled him close, holding onto his tense frame as gently as possible.

Duo wouldn't look at him, but eventually gave in to the embrace and clutched at Heero's shirtfront.

Still not speaking, Heero maneuvered them towards the stairs and forced Duo to turn and walk ahead of him. Once upstairs he moved them towards the bedroom and started to undress Duo, leaving him in his boxers, staring at the floor, while he undressed himself and turned down the bed.

He pulled Duo to the bed and pushed him down, then pulled the sheets over him. He walked around to the other side and slid under the covers.

Duo was staring up at the ceiling, hands folded on the sheets, breathing hard.

Heero pulled Duo against him, back to front, and waited for sleep.

* * *

The shower was silent except for the rush of water and the unspoken words between them. Duo managed to wash himself, paying special attention to his hair, and Heero tried to avoid touching the other man as much as he could, considering how small the shower actually was.

At eight the doorbell rang and Heero answered it after pulling on his jeans and a shirt.

Both Quatre and Trowa looked the worse for wear, but clean, and Heero supposed that was the most any of them could do at this point.

They found Duo in the kitchen, poking at an omelet on the stove.

He looked up when they entered and nodded, which Heero considered an improvement. He estimated that Duo might actually return to using words in another few days at this rate.

Trowa cleared his throat uneasily, earning a glare from Heero.

"We need to be at Fenway by nine, do you want to –"

"I'll talk to Francona when we get there," Duo interrupted, surprising everyone.

Trowa nodded uselessly and sat at the counter. Quatre walked around to stand beside Duo, but after a moment moved away to get a plate and fork for the omelet. Duo took them wordlessly and slid the omelet on the plate. He cut it in half with the spatula, grabbed a second fork, and set the plate between himself and Heero.

Everyone was silent as the two ate.

Heero was getting tired of silent car rides, but since they were in the Land Rover this time and he wasn't squashed, he refrained from sulking. Quatre was driving them, with Trowa and Heero sitting in the back while Duo occupied the passenger seat.

Trowa looked over at him and Heero sighed.

Trowa nodded, somehow satisfied, and turned to look out the window.

The other players stayed well back as Trowa and Duo entered the clubhouse, and Duo made a beeline for Francona's office, so no one asked any questions when Trowa sat down in front of his locker and started to dress.

Fifteen minutes later Duo came back, nodding at Trowa's questioning look, and went to his own locker to change.

Trowa didn't know whether or not this was a good idea. On one hand it could be cathartic for Duo, on the other it would be fodder for later self-recrimination if he played on the same day that his best-friend had died.

But it was Duo's life, and all Trowa could do was wait for him to finish before walking to the field with him.

Uncharacteristically, Francona signaled that he wanted to talk with them before they began warming up. All twenty-five men gathered, along with the trainers and coaches.

"Alright. Yesterday Duo's… brother was admitted to Mercy. He died this morning. Duo's going to play today, because it's what his brother wanted. I don't need to remind any of you that we are here to play baseball, and that whoever wins today's game is wins the division title. So… go to it."

As far as inspiring speeches went it was thin, but it kept the other players from approaching Duo directly, and that was good enough in Trowa's opinion.

He kept an eye on Duo during batting practice, then sprinted with him in the outfield even though it was his day off and he would be sitting in the dugout, jacket on, doing nothing for the rest of the game.

Duo was still silent and it was starting to grate on Trowa simply because he could come up with nothing to say that would force Duo into speech. The lack of emotion on his team-mate's face was equally disturbing, but Trowa was again at a loss when he tried to think of a way to change it.

Someone had told the front office, and when they sang the national anthem it was followed by a moment of silence for "the three Massachutes State Police officers who lost their lives yesterday." And that was when Duo's eyes started to water.

* * *

Duo approached home plate for his first at –bat of the game and couldn't seem to control his breathing. There was pain in his chest – but there was also pain everywhere. Not being able to breathe didn't stop that.

Heero was standing behind the plate, mask resting on his head, looking concerned as he approached.

His eyes were stinging and he brushed at them with the back of one hand and looked away from Heero.

Andy Pettite was on the mound. It was, surprisingly, the first time Duo had faced him. In all of the Yankees-Red Sox games this season he had met every other Yankees started and a few subs, but never Pettite. He remembered that Pettite had pitched three days ago, and realized that, after last night, both teams had exhausted their pitching staffs and that Pettite was only pitching on three days rest instead of the usual five.

The umpire signaled the start of the game and Duo wiped again at his eyes, but now his cheeks were wet too.

Pettite stared down at him, glove covering half of his face, and delivered his first pitch.

TBC….


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

A/N: Alright, still some angst, but it'll start working it's way out soon… I hope. Again, thanks everyone for sticking with this story, we're in the home stretch now.

Out on Strikes 16/?

There was champagne in the clubhouse, a little warm, and the press was anxiously waiting to snap pictures of them spraying each other.

He wondered how the rest of the world could be functioning this well when nothing was going right in his life. Except for this. What he had always wanted – to be a Yankee and to win.

But he had never thought the cost would be so high.

Watching Duo's face as the Red Sox left the field was… more than heartbreaking. The game had been surreal, with each team playing harder than ever before, despite the fact that most of the players had gotten little sleep from the night before. Unsurprisingly it turned into a slugging match very quickly, with both team's pitchers tiring early. The final score was 10-8, thanks to a three-run home run provided by Alex Rodriguez in the ninth.

Victory wasn't supposed to feel this hollow, Heero reflected as a bottle of champagne was pushed into his hands. Numbly he popped the cork and watched the foam dribble out, hoping the press was occupied taking pictures of Rodriguez, Jeter, and Canoe dousing each other instead of witnessing his own lame attempt at celebration.

Wufei came up and clapped him on the shoulder. Neither could think of anything to say, so nods were exchanged and Wufei moved off to mix with the other players.

Heero made the quickest escape he could, but wasn't quick enough to avoid Dorothy, who was waiting for him at the Player's Entrance, Blackberry in one hand and a cell-phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She saw him and raised a hand to stop his progress. He waited as patiently as he could for her to finish.

"Great job tonight, Heero. I'm already getting calls about more endorsements – how to you feel about Cheerios? And you wear Nike's, don't you? Not that it really matters – but we need to do lunch this next week, before you go out to Texas to play the Rangers, alright?"

Heero was both amazed and disgusted by her. He had always appreciated her ability to crush opposition and plow ahead, but at the moment he wished she could have just the smallest bit of sympathy.

"You're aware of what happened to Duo?"

She nodded and waved the Blackberry at him.

"I've been trying to make funeral arrangements, the Boston police have been slow getting back with me, however… but it looks like we can have the funeral Saturday morning – he'll be in town since they fly back Thursday and have the home-stand over the weekend when they play –"

"Stop, Dorothy. He's human, you know? He isn't a pawn to move around in your date-book. He's hurting right now."

Her face turned cold.

"I realize that, Heero. That's why I'm doing this for him. It's all I can do. I realize that I'm… distant, but I care about him. Arranging Solo's funeral is something that I can do, something I can help with. Not all of us can hold his hand and play the role of supportive boyfriend." She arched one eyebrow at him in challenge and then swept past him, back into the stadium, no doubt to track down someone and demand a new contract for one of her players.

He felt somewhat chagrined, but he hefted his bag and searched the parking lot for Duo. He was leaning against his Land Rover, a hat pulled low over his head to hide his face.

"Ready to go home?" Heero asked as he approached.

Wordlessly Duo walked around to get into the driver's side, and Heero resigned himself to yet another silent car ride.

Parked on the street in front of the apartment, Duo took the key out of the ignition but remained sitting. Heero waited.

"Remember when we used to fight all of the time?" Duo asked.

Heero looked over at him, noticing his clenched jaw and puffy eyes.

"Yes," he replied.

"Feel up to it tonight?"

Heero considered the request.

"No. It won't help."

"How do you know?" Duo demanded angrily.

"Because you're hurt and angry and you're trying to push me away. It won't work, and it won't help you. I'm not going anywhere." Heero paused. "Actually, I need to run to the store and get some more toothpaste, and some food. But then I'm not going anywhere."

Duo's startled laugh made Heero smile slightly.

He passed Heero the car keys.

"I'll see you in a bit, then," He said as he got out of the car.

Heero also got out and walked around, he watched Duo go into the apartment and close the door behind him before he got back in the car and drove off.

He tried to remember which Ben & Jerry's flavor was Duo's newest favorite.

* * *

Duo woke up to find the bed empty and felt a moment of panic before he heard the shower running and was able to relax.

He tried to contemplate how exactly his life had changed so much in the last six months, and he tried to think of where he would be after six more months. The fact that Solo wasn't in that mental picture was more painful that he thought could be possible.

He wondered what could have been different – if he had never met Solo, if they had gone to different colleges, if he hadn't been drafted by the Red Sox, if he had never met Heero, if he had never –

"Stop it," came the soft command from the doorway.

Duo propped himself up as he looked at Heero, still damp from the shower and a towel barely clinging to his hips.

"He died doing his job and he died loving you. There's nothing that could have changed that, so stop. You have every right to mourn him, but it's an insult to think that it was your fault."

Heero approached the bed and his towel started to slip downward, Duo followed its progress with interest, a little gratified when Heero had to stop and reposition it.

"So what am I supposed to do? What do you do when half of your heart has just been cut out?"

"Half, huh?" Heero looked down and fingered the edge of the towel.

"Heero –"

"No, I'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me. You've known him for most of your life – hell, he WAS half of you. It isn't going to be easy, Duo, but you've got to – keep going."

"I'm never going to talk to him again." The sudden realization hit Duo hard. Because even when he and Solo had broken up, he had known that he could pick up the phone. But not now.

Heero sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not sure how to help you, Duo. I want to help, but I don't know how."

Duo sat still for a moment, stunned by the admission but also genuinely at a loss.

He tried for a smile, but knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

"You could come back to bed," he suggested.

Heero looked over at him and shook his head.

"No – I don't think that's a good idea. Get up and let's go for a run instead. Ten miles will be nice – it's still cool outside."

Heero walked into the closet to collect clothes, leaving Duo staring after him.

He wasn't sure why – but Heero had just turned down sex, and he suddenly felt very dirty for even thinking of the possibility.

When Heero came back wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Duo couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes. It didn't seem to matter much, however, because Heero just tossed some clothes onto the bed and left the room.

Duo managed to drag himself out of bed, but couldn't keep his mind from its furious thoughts. He jerked on a fresh pair of boxers, then his sweatpants, and finally put on a clean shirt, wishing all the while that Heero Yuy would –

He drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It occurred to him that Heero might have rejected him on purpose, because he was now angry, and because he had forgotten, for a moment, that Solo was dead because of his anger.

Heero was downstairs, holding two bottles of water and waiting by the door. He tossed one to Duo, and the carefully blank expression on his face made Duo frown. Maybe Heero wasn't trying to distract him after all.

Duo set the pace for their run, and it was strenuous enough that neither one of them talked.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Duo was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to take a shower. Heero stopped him from closing the bathroom door by grabbing his arm.

"I have to leave, soon. We fly out to Texas tomorrow afternoon and I need to be in New York to pack."

Duo nodded.

"I'll see you between the division series and the championship series, then?"

Heero paused, and Duo made a negative gesture with his hand.

"Forget that I asked. Call me at least?"

"Duo – "

"Don't sweat it, man. Hey, maybe we'll see each other in the championship series?"

"Duo, don't –"

"Don't what? You just told me you don't want to see me next week. My – best friend died yesterday. I'm allowed to be a little pissed off right now."

"Duo, I'll call you when I get to Arlington."

He walked away and Duo closed the bathroom door, barely resisting the urge to slam it.

* * *

It was the second time Wufei had seen an ultrasound image, but he tried to forget the last time and focus on the image and the woman in front of him now.

Hilde squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

"It's a good name," he assured her.

She nodded, unable to keep tears from her eyes.

The doctor gave them a sympathetic look. He obviously read the paper and had connected his patient "Hilde Schiebeker" with the woman whose partner had been killed two days ago.

"Would you like two copies of the image?" The doctor asked.

They nodded and he wheeled the machine away, taking the wand with it.

Wufei used one of the towels to rub off the gel and helped Hilde put her clothes back in place.

"Promise?" She asked.

"Yes. Henry Solomon Chang sounds perfect."

"You have to leave soon?"

Wufei nodded.

"I'll be back on Thursday night – we play at home Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The funeral – it's on Saturday?"

"Yes, Saturday morning."

"I'll come up for it. I'll try to stay as long as I can."

"Thank you, Wufei."

"I'm sorry, Hilde."

"It was hardly your fault," she said as she rose from the exam table.

"Nor was it yours. Nor was it Mark Sullivan's."

Hilde jaw was clenched, and Wufei knew he was treading on dangerous ground.

"It wasn't Hilde, and you know that."

"I just – I should have been there to protect him. And I know – I know it isn't my fault, but I – I know, Wufei. I know."

She tried to smile at him through her tears and he kissed her nose.

"Okay."

* * *

The flight to Seattle was long and uneventful. Most of the team stopped by Duo's seat to offer condolences, but moved on to sit elsewhere. Duo was grateful for the space they were giving him, but he wished desperately that they were on the ground already so that he could move. There were only so many times he could walk around the cabin before the stewardesses got nervous.

Trowa approached him as they flew over the Rockies and sat in the seat across the aisle, giving Duo room but close enough to talk softly. As softly as one could with plane engines in the background.

"How are you? All things considered?"

"Well enough. I'm never going to see him again, you know? It's… hard to come to terms with."

Trowa nodded.

"Have you been to mass yet?"

That stopped Duo. He hadn't. He honestly hadn't even thought of it. He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

"No. I –"

"I know a cathedral in Seattle, want some company?" Trowa offered.

Duo nodded gratefully.

"Yeah, that would be – thank you, Trowa."

"Just return the favor by hitting some more home runs, will you?" Trowa winked and levered himself up, returning to his own seat farther forward.

Duo leaned back in his chair, readjusted his legs, and actually managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Heero would later reflect on that night as one of the worst ideas he had ever had.

The Yankees won, beating the Rangers 3-1, and even though Zechs hadn't pitched that night and his own team had lost, he still looked smug as he waited for Heero outside the player's entrance.

"Heero, it's good to see you again," he said, looking casual in jeans and a green-button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Same to you," Heero managed to growl, not believing the tenacity of the blonde man.

"Want me to buy you a congratulatory drink?"

"No, Zechs, I want to go back to my hotel and actually sleep – something I haven't been able to do much of recently."

"Maybe I can tuck you in?"

"Why do you keep trying?"

"Because eventually you give in. And because the sex is great, some of the best I've ever had. It's like I-hate-you sex, but better – because it doesn't just happen once."

Heero rolled his eyes, but held the cab door open for Zechs.

"You really are an asshole, sometimes," he muttered after giving the driver directions.

"Sometimes? You see, your resolve is already weakening. By the time we leave the cab you might actually let me buy you a drink at the hotel bar, first."

Heero leaned his head against the headrest and forced himself away from thoughts of Duo.

He had called last night when he arrived in Arlington, and they had talked for no more than five minutes – Duo had assured him that he was fine, and they had arrived in Seattle after a long flight. And that was it. They had hung up after an uneasy series of good-byes.

"No need to buy me a drink," Heero told Zechs as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.

Zechs smirked.

"Excellent."

* * *

The return flight to Boston was far more jubilant than the flight out had been. Having taken two from Seattle, the Red Sox were returning home for three games – although everyone hoped they could finish off the Mariners on Friday and Saturday nights and earn more rest days before they faced either the Rangers or the Yankees in the championship series.

Trowa, in particular, was smug as the plane touched down.

Not only had he managed to pitch eight innings of shut-out ball before Papelbon came in for the save, but he had also dragged Duo to mass twice and it had seemed to help the braided man. Not only had Duo had four RBIs and one home run in the two games, but he had also gone out with Trowa after the games and laughed three times.

Major accomplishments, in his mind, that would earn him some much deserved sex from Quatre.

The blonde was waiting for him in his apartment, and made good on Trowa's wish almost before he was in the door, grabbing him and pulling his head down for a fierce kiss that ended only when Quatre pulled away to yank off Trowa's shirt.

"Welcome home," Quatre breathed before attacking him again.

"Good to see you to," Trowa replied, picking up Quatre and using the blonde to close the door, pinning him against it.

"You pitched well," Quatre said as Trowa nipped and licked his way down his throat and upper chest.

"Hm. Get much writing done while I was gone?"

"Some. Still hard to focus after – ugh. That's nice," Quatre mumbled as Trowa gently bit one of his nipples.

"I've got an idea," Trowa said, pulling away from his task.

Quatre was scowling at him.

"It had better be a damn good one, I liked what you were doing before."

"How about we get naked and have sex under the kitchen table – we haven't done that in a while."

Quatre's eyes lit up and he pushed Trowa away and started to unbutton his clothes.

"That is a good idea," he agreed.

* * *

"You know, I don't consider this to be a great way to spend my Friday mornings," Duo said, trying for humor but falling flat.

"Me either," Dorothy muttered as she directed one of the large men she had hired to help pack up Solo's apartment.

"You know this has always been one of your fantasies – to direct six big, strong men into doing your bidding."

She gave him a smile that was full of teeth.

"But, Duo, I already do that everyday!"

"Doro, you're sick, really. Are you in therapy or anything?"

She rolled her eyes at him and waved him away as she walked into the bedroom to make sure it was empty.

"They've already found a new renter for the apartment. They move in next week. It's a family – young, early twenties, new baby." Dorothy came back into the living room, looking vaguely irritated.

Duo frowned.

"I care why?"

"I don't know, I was trying to make small talk."

"Don't bother."

"Very well. I'm having my assistant bring your suit over tonight, I had it taken to the cleaners. Also – stay away from your apartment until five, they should be finished cleaning by then."

"Dorothy –"

"Duo, shut up and let me do my job. Which is to take care of you like the Nazi-sympathizing mother you never had."

"Sick," Duo repeated and walked out onto the balcony for one last look at the river.

When Dorothy joined him a few minutes later she ignored his wet face and took his hand, squeezing it softly.

"Time to go, Duo, you've got a meeting to be at in thirty minutes."

He turned towards her, scrubbing at his eyes.

"A meeting? For what? Since when did I have a meeting?"

"It's… something that I've arranged for you. It's an option that I want you to think about over these next few weeks. Just an option – I'm not pushing you one way or the other."

Duo's eyebrows furrowed as he considered her cryptic message.

"Doro, this isn't exactly your style."

"I know! It's all your fault too, turning me into some disgustingly sympathetic creature… now, go get changed, there's a suit hanging in the bathroom."

"Creepier than usual too," he mumbled as he left the balcony and went into the bathroom, vaguely disturbed at the sparkling cleanness of it.

It was the navy pinstripe suit – one of his favorites – Solo's favorite. It was the one Dorothy made him wear to places or meetings where he was going to meet with very important people.

He frowned as he pulled it on, wishing fervently that it was black instead of navy, but kept an eye on his appearance in the mirror.

Ignoring the tie Dorothy had provided, he left the top button of the white shirt undone, knowing it would irritate her. It had for the last year and a half, since she had seen him in a triple-A game and taken him out to dinner to discuss a "proposition."

But now she just looked away and made a small sound when he came out, carrying his other clothes folded over his right arm.

They were both silent on the ride, but Dorothy kept looking over at him, and Duo started to feel anxious about the meeting. What exactly was going on?

When they arrived at Dorothy's office, Duo knew something was up. Usually meetings with Dorothy meant eating lunch or dinner – she claimed it was the only way she got to eat – anything that went down at her office was big.

"Doro –"

"Just act like your normal, juvenile self. It's what they want,"

"What they want? And just who are 'they' anyway?"

"You'll see – just – keep an open mind," she commanded as they entered the building.

She opened the door to her office and Duo had to take a moment before he walked in.

Standing in a small half-circle, facing Dorothy's window, were Japanese men dressed in business suits.

He looked at Dorothy, but she was busy greeting the men and only tugged on Duo's elbow.

"Duo," she said after a moment, "I'm sure you know of Mr. Suzuki and his colleagues – the owners of the Tokyo Giants."

* * *

TBC…

Also, a request: who get's to go to the World Series: Yankees or Red Sox? Respond in your reviews, please, so I can figure out which one. Personally, I'm torn, so the help in reaching a decision will be much appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Seriously, it's almost done now… just a few more chapters… But I mean it this time! Really, just two or three more.

Out on Strikes 17/?

As the crowd of civilians, police officers, and professional baseball players dispersed, Duo and Mark Sullivan were left alone by Solo's grave. They were looking at each other, searching, examining.

"I don't –" they both started.

Duo walked around to Sullivan and held out his hand.

Sullivan stared down at it, unsure.

"Not our fault we had such great taste, is it?" Duo offered with a crooked grin.

Sullivan took his hand.

"Not his fault either. He was a good man, Duo, just… the wrong man."

Duo took a moment to consider that, then nodded.

"Yeah, I think you're right. No offense, but you look like shit right now."

Sullivan was shocked into a laugh, knowing that Duo was speaking the truth: he had gotten little sleep over the past week, and whatever sleep he had managed was interrupted by nightmares of Solo, bleeding in his arms.

"Have you been to mass?" Duo asked, voice soft and concerned.

Sullivan shook his head.

"Try it… I avoided it too, until a friend dragged me into a church – it's nice, to think about Solo and God in the same thought. I even went to confession for the first time in seven years – let me tell you, I had a lot to tell the old man."

Sullivan nodded and turned away, hoping Duo hadn't noticed the tears forming in his eyes.

"Also," Duo continued.

Sullivan reluctantly turned back, blinking rapidly.

"Hilde's an emotional wreck right now. I know she said some really awful things to you – but her best friend died, and she's pregnant, and she's a good cop who wasn't able to do her job. I know you know what two of those feel like – and I swear I won't tell anyone you were pregnant."

Sullivan was forced to laugh again, a little shocked when he wasn't struck dead for doing so.

"It's okay to laugh," Duo admonished him, "especially if you do it because you're remembering the goofy shit Solo used to do."

"I underestimated you, Duo. I'm sorry for that."

"Yeah, it happens…take care of Hilde, though, will you?"

Sullivan nodded sharply.

"Of course."

"Thanks. I don't like the thought of her roaming the streets unchecked. God only knows what kind of mess she'd make."

Sullivan nodded again.

Duo clapped him on the back.

"Do you mind if I have a few minutes alone? I'm sorry to ask, but –"

"I understand. Completely."

Sullivan shook his hand again and turned to leave. He paused, a few feet away, and turned around.

Duo was kneeling beside the still open grave, one hand gripping the grass and the other resting on one knee. His head was bowed and his lips were moving as he said something.

It was a sacred, intimate moment, and Sullivan turned away again, ashamed that he had turned back to look.

* * *

The clubhouse was loud and excited. Players were chatting with each other and laughing loudly.

"You can tell we're winning," Trowa said as he sat beside Duo on the bench in front of his locker.

Duo nodded, smiling slightly at the others' antics as he pulled on his socks.

"Yeah – feels good, too. Whaddya think, can you give us a win tonight?"

Trowa shot him a disgusted look.

"I can't believe you just asked me that. Can I give YOU a win? This is me, here."

"My apologies – I should already know that you're going to pitch a perfect game tonight."

Trowa rolled his eyes at the old joke.

"So long as you do some more hitting. Last night was great – two homers – but you better not have wasted all of your power."

Duo winked.

"I've got a few more left in me, don't worry."

"Good. Let's head out?"

Trowa stood and Duo nodded, following him out.

They saw Quatre standing with the other press, and Duo rolled his eyes at the looks on both Trowa and Quatre's faces as they saw each other.

"What are you two, twelve and passing notes in math class?"

"Don't be jealous, there simply isn't enough of me to go around," Trowa shot back.

"You are such an –"

"Hey guys. So, do you think you can manage the sweep tonight?" Quatre was still smiling as he came closer and Duo was positive that, if they could have, the two would start making out right there on the field.

"You're asking Mr. Perfect if he feels up to –"

Duo ducked the glove Trowa aimed at his face and walked away, backwards, shaking his head at the two of them. They continued on, oblivious, flirting through the interview.

He wasn't pleased when Dorothy approached him a few moments later as he waited beside the batting cage for his turn.

"What are you doing on the field?" He demanded.

She waved away his protest.

"I've done it before. I wanted to check – any thoughts on that option of yours?"

Duo narrowed his eyes.

"You said I had until November to consider it."

"I know, I know – but it wouldn't hurt to be able to give them an answer sooner. The marketing campaign they have planned is pretty incredible, and could use a – "

"Dorothy."

She stopped and frowned.

"It was nice of Heero to come to the funeral today," she said, picking at imaginary lint on her sleeve.

"Yes, yes it was."

"Shame he couldn't have stayed longer," she continued.

"He, like me, had a game to play tonight – but he needed to be in New York, which requires a plane flight."

"You two didn't really talk much."

"Doro –"

"Are you two still…?"

"I don't fucking know!" Duo looked around, making sure no one had overheard him.

"Duo, I just don't want him to be the reason you don't take this chance – it's an amazing opportunity. Twelve million a year is –"

"It's not just about money, Doro! You know I'll be giving half of that to charity and taxes anyway!"

"Half of twelve is a lot more than half of three," she commented.

"Three? What – is that it?" Duo frowned. He knew that Dorothy had been in the process of renegotiating his contract, and he knew that the Red Sox were tight when they could be. But…

"We got lucky, Duo, when you signed on last year with a two year contract. This means that we have options, but – it doesn't mean that Boston is going to throw money at you if they don't have to."

"But, I've played my ass off this year!"

"And you came out in the most public way possible, without consulting them."

"Damnit, Doro, I –"

"I know, Duo. You need to focus on the game tonight. But, the Red Sox and Tokyo aren't your only options. The other offer is still on the table."

Duo glared at her.

"Didn't you just say –"

"You don't have to listen to me, Duo, not if you don't want to. And they're offering eight million a year for the next three years, if I need to remind you."

"You don't." Duo put on his batting gloves and helmet with more force than necessary and took his position in the batting cage.

* * *

Heero glared at Zechs, who looked perfectly comfortable sitting on the couch in Heero's apartment in only his boxers, watching Sports Center.

"I thought you were going to be gone before I woke up," Heero said as he entered the room.

Zechs didn't bother to turn around.

"Yes, well, five a.m. is very early to be sneaking around."

"Zechs – out. Now. I told you –"

Zechs rose gracefully from the couch and turned off the television.

"And I heard. Very well, Yuy. I'll get my clothes and slink off like the whore you've made me into…" Zechs sighed dramatically.

Heero didn't bother to comment, he instead went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Tell me something," Zechs said, coming back into the room a few minutes later, pulling on a shirt.

"Hn."

"You and Maxwell… still together after his big coming out party?"

Heero glared at Zechs, wishing he had the power to make the other man vanish. Or explode.

"Ah… trouble in paradise, then? Must be tough to be seen together in public now… people will start to talk about you, too. I've noticed he spends a lot of time with Barton… wonder if there's anything there." Zechs looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged and tugged on a pair of jeans.

"He's going through a tough time, right now. His… best friend died."

"The cop? He was more than a best friend, based on what you've told me before… so what are you doing, giving him space or some shit?"

"He needs it. He's confused… he's without direction."

Zechs rolled his eyes.

"Yuy, you are the most idiotic man I have ever slept with. What makes you sure he can find direction without you?"

"He will, he can."

"And what if that direction is away from you?"

Heero swallowed hard.

"If that's what's best for him, then…"

"Come on, Yuy. You've been fucking me for, what? Almost a year now – on and off?"

"Yes."

"And do you know why I've never pressed you for anything aside from the casual fuck?"

Heero frowned. "Because I despise your personality?"

"Ouch. No, because you are terrified of commitment. You appreciate it from a distance – but when actually confronted with it, you back off."

"What?"

"This whole thing with Maxwell… he's going through a tough time right now, so you're giving him space? Whatever. Right now, you don't know how to help him, so you're backing off – because you don't want to screw it up by doing the wrong thing. But that isn't commitment… that's protecting an investment. "

"I can't believe that you, the… Playboy of the majors, is giving me relationship advice."

Zechs shrugged.

"Someone has to, and even I can figure this one out." Zechs sighed. "Look, if you want to spend next season pining away over him, again, and then keep fucking me when I'm in town, I'm not going to complain. But when you wake up one morning and see him on Page Six with some other guy… are you really going to say that he went in the direction that was best for him?"

Heero scowled.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, then?"

"Well, the Sox swept Seattle, so they'll be in the championship series… if you Yanks win on Sunday you will be, too… or if you win on Monday or Tuesday… unless WE win Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday and go to the series instead. A lot of stuff left to chance, if you ask me."

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"This is helpful advice, how?"

"It's not. I'll be damned if I actually give you a game plan for how to win him back – if I had that game plan, I'd probably use it."

"Thanks, Merquise."

"Sure thing. Now, I've got to get to the ball-park – something about a game at noon?"

"A game you're going to lose, no doubt."

"Keep telling yourself that Yuy, but I want a World Series ring, and I want to get it this year."

* * *

"What's happening to you, next year?" Duo asked Trowa as he handed the taller man a Yuengling on his way back to the couch.

Trowa looked away from the baseball game on television and over at Duo.

"Unlike you, I didn't get lucky enough to sign on with a two-year contract. The Sox signed me to a two-million dollar contract for five years."

Duo winced.

"Ouch, they've got you locked up for a while, then. Any luck with Doro trying to work that up for you?"

Trowa frowned and turned back to the television, where it seemed the Mets were rallying against the Giants late in the game.

"Sort of. I'm not… there are several trade options on the table. Management has talked to Doro and made it clear that they'd LIKE to keep me, but I need to be careful."

Duo jerked his own attention away from the game to scowl at Trowa.

" 'Careful'? What the hell does that mean? Like, you can't play pick-up basketball careful or what?"

"As in I need to keep my… deviance… on a low profile or I'll be shipped out at the earliest possible convenience, probably to Kansas City."

Duo winced sympathetically.

"So the trade options – they're willing to give you up that easily?"

Trowa shrugged.

"No one said it would be easy. But there are a few teams out there who are interested in acquiring a Cy Young caliber pitcher, regardless of who he fucks after the game.

"Like…?"

Trowa smirked at him.

"You first. I've seen Doro going around making all sorts of phone calls about you – what's in the works for you, Mr. Soon-To-Be-Free-Agent?"

Duo shrugged.

"I could stay with the Sox – for a paltry amount that's too insulting to actually be considered an offer. Or… right now I've got two other options."

"You'll get more when it's Hot Stove time, people would be crazy to pass on the chance to have a young, talented guy like you."

"Sure, that's what I keep telling Doro, but she's pushing me to go with one of these two options before November."

Trowa narrowed his eyes.

"It'll be interesting if I have to pitch against you next year."

"Yeah, well, don't count on it – based on my options. The chances of you pitching against me are pretty freakin'…" Duo trailed off and looked back at the television, determined not to speak about it anymore.

Trowa quickly recovered from his own shock at the admission.

"The White Sox, Tigers, and Yankees have expressed interest in me," he said quietly.

Duo winced at the last.

"Well, you'd get to hang with Wufei and Heero, I guess. Quatre's always preferred New York to Boston, anyway."

"What makes you think that's who'll get me?"

Duo shrugged.

"Those guys… much as I hate them, they've got the money and the brains, sometimes. Plus, New York would love you… openly gay, male athlete… you'll be a star."

"And you? Where might you be next year?"

Duo scowled as the Mets won the game with a walk-off single.

"With the Giants."

Trowa started and pointed at the screen.

"Those clowns?"

"Guess I'll fit right in."

"Who else is on the table, then?"

Duo paused, took a healthy swig of beer, and muttered, "the Giants."

It took Trowa a moment to follow.

"As in the Tokyo Giants? As in, Japanese League? Are you kidding?"

Duo shook his head.

"Nope, wouldn't that be funny? I could be the first openly gay, male athlete in Japan. According to Doro, the T-Giants' PR guys love it – think it'll bring in more girl fans or some crap like that. Personally, I think they're off their rockers. But the price is certainly right, so…"

"Duo, you don't play this game just for money."

"For twelve million a year for the next six years I might," Duo mused, staring into his nearly empty beer bottle.

"Twelve million? I didn't think they went after players with that kind of money."

Duo shrugged.

"They think I'll be the Ichiro of America – maybe all the folks back home will start tuning into the games over there, or something. Hell if I understand it."

"Duo, it's half a world away."

"Think of all the records I could set, Tro… well, until they bench me to keep me from getting them – remember when that guy was close to getting the season-hitting record a few years back and they benched him because he wasn't Japanese? That was kinda lame, but I guess I understand."

"Duo."

"Trowa, I can't stay in Boston any longer, okay? Everything about it, it's Solo's town – it's where we wanted to live, it's… there's just too much. I need a change."

"Then tell Doro to look with the other teams. Do you really think that those two are the only ones who will want you?"

Duo shook his head.

"Trowa, you really think too much of me, man. Centerfielders are a dime-a dozen – most teams are squared away and totally solid. Yeah, maybe I'm quicker than most, and maybe I'm better with my glove or maybe I have a better arm than some… or maybe I hit better than others, but… I'm still the guy who came out on national television. No one really wants that kind of thing associated with them. Only the T-Giants or the San Francisco ones, you know?"

Trowa realized that Duo was in no mood to be persuaded and let the subject drop.

"Guess that's that, then. Either the Mets or Cubs will be going to the World Series," he said instead.

Duo nodded thoughtfully.

"I hope it's the Cubbies – they've played their asses off."

"So have the Mets."

"Yeah, but they were just there last year and got swept by Oakland. Hardly worthy of a repeat invitation."

"Mean's they'll be easier for us to beat, then," Trowa argued.

Duo laughed.

"We're gonna have to get through the Yankees first – they beat Texas earlier today."

Trowa shrugged.

"Been there, done that. We can take them, no problem. So long as you keep hitting like you have been."

"You keep up with the ball-throwing and I'll do my job," Duo shot back, grinning.

When Trowa got up to leave a few minutes later he paused at the door.

"Duo, don't let Dorothy force you into anything. You've got time, and more teams are going to want you – especially after you've got a World Series ring."

Duo smirked.

"Yeah, we'll see."

TBC…


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Alright, 19 chapters is where we're going to end. I want to thank everyone, again, for all the great reviews, again. I love knowing that folks are enjoying this story, and baseball. Thank you so much! (and keep it up, my ego constantly needs to be fed…)

Out on Strikes 18/19

Considering that they hadn't talked since the Solo's funeral a week ago, and also taking into account the fact that this was game one of the American League Championship Series, Heero wasn't surprised when Duo stepped up to the plate for his first at bat and didn't say a word to him.

He was surprised, however, when Duo didn't even look at him, or the umpire – or offer any joke to the umpire before the game started. It was completely out of character for him and it worried Heero.

Mussina was pitching the first game; and it was clear that the aging Yankees' pitcher had been worn down by the season-long battle with the Red Sox for the Division title. Now he stood on the mound, shoulders drooped in his classic pitching-stance, and the fire was back in his eyes. Mussina had been a Yankee for nearly a decade and hadn't won a World Series ring, and, this being the last year on his contract, was likely also his last chance.

The first two pitches were called strikes and the bat never left Duo's shoulder.

Extremely worried, Heero signaled for an outside fastball. Mussina nodded.

And suddenly Duo had a stand-up double.

Heero glared at him across the in-field, but Duo was looking elsewhere, unstrapping his shin guard and handing it off. But he was grinning, which seemed to be an improvement on his earlier silence.

Except that Heero had no idea where that left him.

* * *

Trowa took the mound to the sound of the Boston fans chanting his name. It was a heady feeling, and one he was sorely going to miss. He grimaced, thinking of the front office's stance on his homosexuality and his contract. It was completely medieval, their mindset, and he knew that next year he would be pitching for a different team.

He glared down at Johnny Damon, the first Yankees batter of the night.

Maybe even this team.

Smirking slightly he threw his first pitch to Damon, who popped it up, foul, but close enough to the third base line for Rodriguez to catch it. One away.

Next was Derek Jeter. Trowa could remember growing up, watching Jeter play for the Yankees as a young rookie, and wanting to be just like him.

Jeter grounded out to second. Two away.

Heero stepped up to the plate and Trowa fought hard to table his personal frustrations with the catcher. He didn't understand what was happening between him and Duo, but he knew it wasn't good – and it wasn't helping Duo.

So, after one pitch for a strike and one for a ball he threw the next squarely at Heero's head. The pitch was slow enough for Heero to drop to the dirt and avoid getting hit, because Trowa had no intention of injuring him.

Now it was Heero's turn to glare at the mound. He gripped his bat so tightly Trowa wondered if it would snap in his hands.

The next pitch was fouled off, and again Rodriguez caught it for the out. Three away. Inning over.

* * *

"Wufei."

"Hm?"

It was two a.m. and Wufei had been nearly asleep, cradling Hilde against him and enjoying the space and comfort of the king-sized bed at her apartment.

"If I do move to New York, what would I do?"

That woke him up. He stared down at her and she looked back at him guiltily.

"Aside from clean my apartment naked and stay in the kitchen, bare-foot and pregnant?"

She punched him lightly, but it couldn't wipe the grin from his face. She was going to move in with him.

"Seriously, Wufei. I can't be a stay at home mom, I'd go crazy."

"Why don't you start a charity or community partnership program, then?"

"Hm? How? I don't have any money, and I don't know much about running things from a financial perspective."

"I've got the money, and you can hire someone to run the financial things."

"I'm not going to live off of your money," she shot back, somewhat irritated.

"Yes, you are. You are, the children are. Hilde, I get paid… a lot to do what I do. There isn't any job you could get that would equal my salary."

She scoffed and moved away from him but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back into his arms.

"What I meant by that is this: the only jobs you want – that you've ever wanted – are ones that help people. And those jobs don't pay as much as mine. That's all I meant. I wasn't trying to disparage you or anything."

She settled, somewhat mollified. After a moment of silence she continued.

"Wufei, how much do you make?"

"Currently I have a three year, twenty-eight million dollar contract. That means I get paid around nine-million a year, and there are bonuses that aren't factored into that. Plus, there are some companies that have approached me for commercials and endorsements."

"Nine million?! A year! What do you do with all of that money?"

"A fair amount goes to taxes, but a lot of it also goes into charities. Which is why I want you to start one. I don't have the time – even in the off-season I need to keep up my physical conditioning and I still have other responsibilities, but I could help you with it then, and during the season, it would be something that would keep you busy, and keep you satisfied."

Hilde sighed and curled closer to his body.

"That does sound nice," she murmured against his chest.

"Really? You're going to move to New York?"

He felt her smile.

"Only if you get a new place to live. Somewhere where the children will have friends."

"A house?"

"Not necessarily. I wonder if Duo and Heero will move in together… wonder where they'll be…"

"Far from us. There is no chance I want Maxwell to have an influence on my children's lives."

Hilde laughed.

"Wufei?"

"Hm?"

"When the Red Sox beat the Yankees in this series, will you still not want him to have an influence on their lives?"

He glared down at her.

"As if that could ever happen."

* * *

It was the first time they had spent time together in several months, just the two of them, and it was a welcome change for both.

"So, how have you been? I know we haven't really talked much lately, and I feel –" Quatre started.

"Don't sweat it, man. We've both been busy. Me with baseball and you screwing Tro… that's life." Duo shrugged, then grinned when Quatre choked on his water and looked around the restaurant to see if they had been overheard.

"Tell me, what are your plans, for after the season?" Quatre asked him a few minutes later, when their food arrived.

Duo frowned.

"Tro didn't already spill the beans?"

Quatre shook his head.

"No – he didn't. He doesn't usually tell me what you guys talk about. Unless it's me – he knows I have a desperate ego."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Right. Um, a few options, nothing I really want to consider right now. I don't know, Quatre, it's…not how I thought the season would end, you know?"

Quatre nodded, eyes sympathetic.

"I know. It's been a tough year for you."

Duo shrugged.

"No more than it's been for some others, too."

"Yes, but Duo, so much has changed for you! I mean, you had your entire future mapped out a certain way, and now –"

"And now there isn't a fucking map at all. I KNOW, Quatre, and I don't really want to talk about it." Duo stabbed a potato on his plate with enough force to tilt his water glass.

Quatre got the hint and backed off.

* * *

Game two of the series went to the Yankees after an early collapse from the Red Sox pitching, and Duo was grim as he walked out of the player entrance, in search of his new car – the blue convertible he had won at the Home Run Derby – and was shocked to see Heero already there. Waiting for him.

"How did you know it was my car?" Duo asked him as he approached.

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"The bumper stickers. Only you would defile a BMW with bumper stickers."

Duo shrugged and stood awkwardly, waiting for Heero to continue.

"Can I get a ride?" Heero asked uneasily.

Duo shrugged again.

"Where are you staying?"

At that Heero frowned, then nodded.

"The Westin. I can catch a cab if you – "

Duo sighed.

"No, get in. I can take you there. Have you had dinner yet?" The question was out before Duo could stop himself, and there was no way he could revoke the invitation without seeming like a complete asshole.

"No, actually."

"Alright. I know this pizza place, we'll go there."

The ride over was silent, and even though Duo felt Heero's eyes on him, he refused to look over at the other man.

Finally, a pizza settled between them and a pitcher of beer at the ready, Duo felt ready to actually have a conversation with Heero.

"So, where are we now, exactly?" Duo asked.

Heero frowned.

"Because I've been trying to figure it out – and the hell if I know. One minute you're showing up on my doorstep breaking up with me, then you're back to tell me you're there for good, and then you run away again."

"I didn't run away. I had to fly to Texas."

"Yeah. Whatever. And the reason why you said no more than two words to me at Solo's funeral?"

Heero was silent.

"And the reason why it's taken you three nights of being in town before you worked up the balls to talk to me? You know what that tells me – two things. One, either you've decided we're done and don't know how to break it to me. Or, two, you've gone and fucked someone else and don't know how to break it to me."

Heero remained silent.

"Or you could just be the biggest asshole I've ever met," Duo muttered before cramming a slice of pizza in his mouth. He glared at Heero and chewed angrily.

"I'm not good at communicating," Heero allowed. "And I don't know what you want, or need from me. So I don't know how to give it."

Duo snorted.

"Okay. Sure. Actually, you've got a good point here – let's examine our relationship, shall we? Awesome, though infrequent sex. We make good drinking buddies, if getting drunk is the measure of good. And we go running together. That's all good. But where's the rest? Do you know what my favorite movie is? Do I know yours? Do I know anything about you, except that your dad burns rice and you play for the Yankees? No. I don't."

"Do you want to?" Heero asked.

It took Duo a moment to sort out a response to that.

"I did, yeah. I really did three weeks ago. Now, now… I don't know anymore, Heero. I don't know what we think we're doing or what we're really doing anymore except fucking around."

"Okay."

The response infuriated Duo to the point where he remained silent for the rest of the meal, and the drive back to Heero's hotel, refusing to acknowledge the other man even when he turned back to say something. Instead, Duo drove away.

* * *

" 'Okay'? That's what he said?"

"Yeah, fuckin' – what the hell does that even mean? Huh?"

Trowa shrugged.

"Hell if I know. I think we should have him killed. It'll improve our chances to win, too."

Duo snorted a laugh and continued to stretch, glaring across the infield at Heero and the rest of the Yankees, silently cursing them all.

"Stupid, just plain, fuckin' stupid. What the hell was I thinking? We were gonna have a deep and meaningful conversation over pizza and then return to my place for a night of great sex?"

Trowa scowled.

"I agree. That was stupid of you."

"Thanks, man. Great support."

"Anytime."

Duo stood and offered Trowa a hand up, which the other man accepted. They looked around the half-filled stadium and couldn't resist smirking at each other.

"You know what always makes me feel better?" Duo asked.

"Crushing the Yankees on their own field?" Trowa guessed.

"Exactly." Duo cracked his knuckles. "I hope all those Yankee fans brought some tissues, because they're gonna go home crying tonight."

Game six of the series was played in Boston, and with the Yankees taking two out of three in New York, the Red Sox had to win in order to stay in the running. Fenway was packed to capacity and Trowa was once again pitching for the Sox.

Duo grinned at him as they took the field.

"You know, kemosabe, if we win this game, we're one away from the World Series."

Trowa nodded sagely.

"And if we lose we allow the vile, evil Yankees to return."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"You realize, wherever you wind up, no one's going to appreciate your bizarre personality as much as me."

Trowa nodded again.

"I know. That's why I've spent the last two weeks recording your voice, so that at night, when I want to cry at my loneliness, I can play it and find comfort, knowing that somewhere, someone understands."

Duo choked on a cough as he started to laugh and Trowa helpfully pounded his back.

"Seriously, you are fucked in the head, Barton."

"As if you can judge me, Maxwell."

Duo jogged away after Trowa's parting shot and took his position in the outfield.

Behind him, fans were cheering him and the Sox. It felt good. It felt like home. Too bad it was only temporary.

Angry at allowing himself to dwell on his future situation, he punched his glove and prepared to field whatever came his way.

Trowa struck out both Damon and Jeter, but then Heero came to the plate and Duo bounced onto the balls of his feet, waiting.

The sharp crack of the bat was the only warning he had.

Sprinting backwards, faster than he should have been considering the dampness of the grass, Duo just caught the ball as it reached the bullpen and crashed against the wall. He managed to hold the ball in his glove, even as he fell onto the warning track.

The crowd cheered and one bold fan called out, asking if he was okay.

Duo managed to get back to his feet and tossed the ball into the stands. His jog back to the dugout was painful, however.

* * *

Heero knew something was wrong, as soon as Duo stepped up to the plate.

Watching Duo make the play in deep center, Heero had been both frustrated and proud. Duo was an excellent player, who pushed himself harder than almost anyone Heero knew. His antics both on and off the field sometimes masked his dedication, and Heero was frustrated that more people didn't realize just how talented Duo was.

Duo still wasn't talking to him, which wasn't surprising considering their last attempt at conversation the previous night when Duo came up to bat at Yankee Stadium. It had, naturally, ended with Duo telling Heero to 'fuck off.'

Now Duo was limping his way over to the plate and Heero frowned. Duo had hit the wall hard, had he pulled or broken something?

"You okay?" He asked.

Duo glared down at him.

"Good enough to kick your ass, Yuy," Duo assured him.

Heero stood and took a step towards him, risking the umpire's wrath.

"Duo, I'm sorry. It's not okay – I just –"

"Gentlemen, can we play?" The umpire interrupted.

Duo glared at Heero and arched an eyebrow.

"Well? You gonna tell Moose you want an outside fastball or what?"

Heero scowled and crouched behind the plate. He signaled for an inside fastball, more to spite Duo than anything else.

Duo hit the third pitch into the hole up the middle and sped towards first. Halfway to the base he paused, grunting in pain, but then made it the rest of the way before the throw reached.

Heero was halfway down the line before the Red Sox trainers rushed past him, anxious to check on Duo.

Several minutes later the trainers split away and Duo was left on first. Heero frowned at the decision. Duo was obviously injured – he should be pulled from the game.

His frown turned into a scowl when Duo took off for second base not thirty seconds later. Heero stood and threw the ball to second. Derek Jeter arrived at the bag at the same time as Duo, and the ball.

Duo was called out.

* * *

Game seven. The last chance for either team to advance to the World Series.

The day dawned dark and cloudy, threatening rain.

As the Red Sox players started to fill the clubhouse, Duo couldn't fight off the sense of nostalgia. If he was lucky, he would share the clubhouse with these guys four more times after today. If he was unlucky – this would be his last time, dressing and undressing at Fenway Park.

He had a home among these athletes, all of them were united by their love for the game and their desire to beat the Yankees today. To go to the World Series next week.

But even as he was living it, Duo realized that this was a chapter of his life that was already closed. He would never be a rookie again, he would never meet people who had changed his life so much – Trowa, Heero, Wufei – and he would never be able to look at baseball the same. He had given the Red Sox organization his blood and sweat over the last two years – first in the minor leagues and now in the majors – and he had been repaid with a swift kick in the ass. Duo wasn't surprised – it was Boston, after all, and this was America's pass-time: some things, people just weren't ready for. But he had thought – hoped – that the front office would offer him more support than it had.

And now… not only his professional career but his personal life was in shambles. Duo had not talked to Heero except for terse exchanges at home plate, and he doubted they would be able to resolve their relationship – on the field or off. That too, was an end.

It seemed that, all at once, Duo's life was over.

Which meant it was time to start again.

Quatre entered the Red Sox clubhouse ten minutes before the players were scheduled to take the field.

The players around him seemed to be moving in a slow-motion parody of their usual pre-game frenzy. Any game against the Yankees was big, but this was the last big one of the season. The Red Sox last chance to crush the evil empire.

He spotted Trowa, standing to one side, talking to a few young pitchers from the bullpen. Judging by the motions of their hands, they were trying to explain the way one of the Yankee batter's hit. Trowa caught his eye and nodded, smiling slightly.

Quatre returned the look and moved over to where Duo sat.

Duo looked up at him.

"Hey, Quat, sorry about the other night, I…"

"You didn't know how to tell me you were moving to Japan?" Quatre cut in.

Duo's eyes widened and he stood quickly, grabbing Quatre's arm and pulling him out of the clubhouse, into the empty dugout.

"Look, be mad if you want, but that's not your news to spread around – so keep a lid on it." Duo paused, frowning, to run a hand through his hair. "How did you find out, anyway?"

"Trowa finally 'spilled the beans' last night."

"Oh yeah? Great. Well, now you know."

Quatre waved his hands in exasperation.

"So you're going to pick up and leave – just like that?! It isn't… Duo, if you want a change of scenery, I understand. But moving across the world, just to get away from Solo and Heero? That's a long way to go."

Duo swallowed hard at the mention of Solo.

"Yeah, well, it isn't like a lot of other options have presented themselves."

"But – the World Series isn't even over yet! It hasn't even started! They won't even announce the awards until November! Don't sell out now, when you're only going go up in value."

Duo smiled and shook his head.

"Quatre, you don't get it. They're offering me more money than any other team will, and… I want this. I want a change. I've always wanted to travel, you know. This would be a great chance to do that."

"Duo – you're throwing away your career! So you go over and play for what, two, three years? Then you come back and play here – but that's all wasted time! None of your stats from the J-league will transfer over here."

"Who says I'm coming back?" Duo asked, softly.

"I do, you asshole. You're my best friend and I know life sucks for you right now, but you're going to be happy again. Maybe not soon, but in a month – in a year – and you're going to wake up and realize you were being stupid to run away from everyone who cares about you."

There were tears in Quatre's eyes and Duo had to fight the urge to hug his friend as the other players started to enter.

Quatre shook his head at Duo and walked away, across the field.

He was met halfway by Heero, who, with the rest of the Yankees, were coming onto the field to stretch.

"Quatre?" Heero asked, frowning at the blonde's lack of composure.

He started to wave off Heero, but stopped short.

"I don't know what you've done to fuck up your relationship with Duo, but you need to fix it. Now."

Heero frowned.

"I'm not sure I can – or that he even wants me to."

Quatre scowled.

"He's not five, Heero! If he doesn't want you, he'll push you away! But he can't push you if you aren't even within arms reach!"

"Maybe I already know he'll push, and I don't want to put myself through it."

"Then you're a coward, and you aren't good enough for him," Quatre shot back and stormed past.

* * *

It was the bottom of the seventh inning, the Red Sox were up to bat, and the game was tied at three. Trant had started the game for the Yankees and, amazingly, had not hit Duo. Now, however, he was pulled as Duo came to bat again and Wufei came into the game.

Usually the reliever only came in for one or two innings, but his stamina was strong enough that three innings should be within his reach.

Heero certainly hoped so.

Throughout the game Heero had tried to talk to Duo. So far, the other two times Duo had come up to bat he had shot Heero a smart-ass remark, or ignored him completely. But, unless the game turned into a slugfest, this might be Heero's last chance to talk to him.

"Duo, we need to talk," he said as soon as Duo reached the plate.

"Um, dunno if you've noticed, Yuy, but there's a game going on right now."

"After, damn it. I need you to wait around."

"Me wait around, huh? You so sure you Yanks are gonna win, then? Maybe it's you who'll have to wait around while I finish celebrating with my mates."

Duo winked at the umpire, who rolled his eyes and motioned for the two men to return to the plate and start the at-bat.

Frustrated, Heero crouched down and waited for Wufei to pitch. Usually he didn't try to call Wufei's pitches – they knew each other well enough to not need the communication – and Wufei mostly threw heat, so it wasn't difficult to catch him.

They were both taken by surprise when the first pitch was high and inside, catching Duo on the shoulder.

"God damnit Chang!" Duo threw his bat down and started towards the mound.

Heero caught his arm and pulled him away.

Duo pushed at him, knocking the mask loose on Heero's face.

Heero grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Duo – calm down. Go to first."

"Don't tell me what to do, Yuy!" Duo shouted, struggling. "What the fuck makes you think you can just push me around like you own the fucking place? Huh? And why the hell are you touching me? Get your hands off and back the fuck away from me before I –"

"I love you, you idiot!" Heero shouted back, interrupting Duo's tirade.

Duo's eyes widened, almost comically.

"What – what did you say?"

"I said I love you, Duo. I love you and I don't know what to do about it – but it's there. So go to first base and finish the damn game."

Duo looked shaken, but he backed away and took his spot on first.

As Heero returned to home plate, the umpire shot him a look.

"What?" Heero demanded.

The umpire shrugged.

"Just wondering if that was the best apology you could come up with, or if you didn't really meant it," he muttered.

Heero glared at him and turned his back to the man.

It really was the best he could come up with.

* * *

Duo came to bat once more in the game. Still tied at 3, now at the bottom of the ninth, with Wufei on the mound for the Yankees.

"It isn't enough," Duo said as he came up to the plate.

"What?" Heero was shocked enough that Duo had talked to him that he hadn't heard the words.

"It isn't enough," he repeated.

"What would be?"

"Some damn consistency, for one thing."

Wufei threw the first pitch for a strike, and as Duo kicked at the dirt beside the plate, preparing for the next pitch, Heero tried to think of some way he could demonstrate that.

"I'm always the one who comes back to you," he pointed out.

Duo snorted, then fouled off the next pitch.

"That's because you're the one who does the wrong thing always. You haven't even given me a decent chance to fuck things up – you do it all on your own."

The words cut Heero.

Duo fouled off the next two pitches before speaking again.

"It's just not enough, that's all I'm saying." He looked down at Heero, and there was something unreadable in his eyes. A question.

The next pitch was an inside fastball, and Duo's bat hit the ball squarely.

For a moment, Duo watched the ball as it flew out towards the Green Monster.

"That was for you, Solo," he said, so softly Heero almost missed it. And then he was gone, jogging around the base-path to the roar of thirty-thousand fans.

Heero watched it all, and felt a pang of jealously.

Behind him, the umpire cleared his throat. Heero turned to him.

"You just lost," the man said.

Heero pulled back his mask and rested it on his head.

"I realize that. Walk-off home runs tend to signal the end of a game."

The umpire shook his head.

"I mean, you just lost him."

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

Out on Strikes, 19/19

A/N: A very, very big thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story, even though I have, on several occasions, gone months without updating. Your support and excitement have meant a lot to me. I'm just sorry that things got in the way of me cranking this out sooner. My summer job was more… demanding than I anticipated.

**Epilogue: November**

Heero and Wufei were watching the World Series on Heero's couch.

Between them sat a Tupperware bowl full of popcorn, and each had a bottle of Killian's in hand.

It was the first game of the World Series, and even though it was in New York, it was not at Yankee Stadium.

The Mets and the Red Sox were meeting again in the World Series for the first time since 1986, when the Red Sox had 'grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory.' The first two games would be in New York, the next three in Boston, and, if it came to it, the remaining two games would be played in New York again.

The two Yankees had waited for this moment all season, but it wasn't how they had imagined it. Both had believed, had KNOWN, that the Yankees would be playing in the World Series. Instead, the Red Sox were playing and they were relegated to watching it on FOX.

As the Mets took the field and Duo Maxwell stepped up to the plate for the first at-bat of the Series, Wufei glanced over at Heero.

His teammate's face was carefully neutral. Wufei hadn't asked him about Duo since the ALCS, sensing that it wasn't good news. Now, however, he felt compelled to poke at the obvious wound.

"Wonder if the Sox will be able to pull this off," he said, casually.

Heero grunted, eyes still focused on Duo.

"Be a shame if they lost – they beat us, after all. Plus, Duo's played –"

"Wufei. Drop it. I know what you're trying to do. I don't want to talk about it. I screwed it up, it's done. I just want to watch baseball."

Wufei scowled.

"I never figured you for a coward, Yuy."

Now it was Heero's turn to scowl.

"I'm not – what the hell are you talking about?"

"You. Running away from a fight."

"What fight am I running away from?"

"Him. You've given up."

"He doesn't want me. I'm not –" Heero stopped and turned back to the television screen as Duo hit a line drive down the third base line.

"You are," Wufei said as soon as Duo had slid into second base. "What happened –what did he say to you?"

Heero frowned, deeply uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I told him I loved him."

"And?" Wufei prompted when Heero didn't continue.

"And he said it wasn't enough."

It was, Wufei reflected, much the same argument Hilde had used on him.

"Then what would be?"

"I don't know! This is Duo Maxwell we're talking about. No one knows the way his brain works."

"Not true," Wufei mused aloud, remembering again how he had had to break down and call Maxwell for help with Hilde. "Quatre and Hilde both know."

"Quatre would rather have me shot on sight than speak to me, right now," Heero said.

"Hilde?"

"I don't know how much she and Duo have talked since… Solo."

"Doesn't matter. They were connected by more than him. Ask her."

Heero frowned, then nodded absently.

"I mean it. You let him slip away and you'll not only be ruining your life, but his as well."

"He's a grown man – why is everyone acting like this is my responsibility?"

"Because you screwed it up in the first place. If he'd been the one to run out on you the day after your best-friend-brother-former lover had been killed, then I'm sure Barton or Quatre or Hilde would be having this conversation with him right now. But he didn't, you did."

"I know." Heero paused. "So why do I even deserve him? After that?"

"Why do you deserve Maxwell? You two deserve each other – he's insane and you're ridiculously dense. The perfect couple."

Heero glared at Wufei, who smirked back and gestured at the screen.

"I thought we were here to watch the game."

Heero fought the urge to roll his eyes

* * *

Quatre was waiting for Trowa when he emerged from the clubhouse.

The blonde smiled at his lover and walked to him.

"Good game," he said when he was within hearing distance.

Trowa looked up, spotted him, and grinned back.

"Thanks. Only three more to go."

"A little overconfident, are we?" Quatre joked.

"No. Maybe a little." Trowa put his arm around Quatre's shoulders, shocking the blonde man.

"Uh, Trowa?" Quatre looked around, checking for people that were staring at them. There were a few fans, gathered by the stadium, looking their way.

"Hm?" Trowa looked down at Quatre.

"Your arm is around me," Quatre pointed out.

"Yes, it is." Trowa didn't remove his arm.

"And we're in front of Fenway, and people are staring."

Trowa took a casual glance at their surroundings.

"Yes, they are."

"So, um, why is your arm around me?"

"Because I love you and I'm tired of hiding it. I just pitched a no-hitter in the World Series, and if that isn't enough for them, then nothing will be. So to hell with them."

"Wow. Um, is this adrenaline talking?"

"Yeah," Trowa responded, deadpan.

Quatre chuckled.

"Well, I like it. You should win more often." Quatre allowed himself to lean into Trowa slightly.

"I win often enough as it is," Trowa chided him.

"Oh? You think winning twenty-one games in your rookie season is impressive?"

Trowa snorted.

"Yeah, I do. And so do you, Quatre Winner. Or at least, that's what you wrote last week on your blog."

Quatre sighed, content.

"I can't believe you. All season you refuse to read my articles… the only one you read is the one about who I think should get the Cy Young award."

"It WAS about me," Trowa pointed out.

"So full of yourself."

"It's a good thing you like me, then," Trowa said.

Quatre nodded in agreement.

"Ready to go and meet my Mom?"

Trowa froze.

"Today? Dinner was today?"

Quatre shot him a look.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Can we run home so I can change – I don't want to show up in my jeans."

"Trowa, this isn't a society function, it's just dinner with my family."

"At your Mother's Boston townhouse. One of the seven townhouses she has in New England. I need to change."

Quatre rolled his eyes.

"She already likes you."

"She's never met me."

"She watches you on T.V. She thinks you're too thin, though." Quatre poked Trowa in the ribs.

"Yeah, I haven't heard any complaints from you."

"And you won't. I like you just as you are, Trowa Barton. I'll still like you if you don't have a World Series ring on your finger come next May."

"What if you're wearing that ring?" Trowa stopped walking, looking at Quatre with an expression he rarely saw. Trowa's face was open, his expressions and his nervousness evident.

"Trowa, did you… wait. What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Marry me, Quatre."

Quatre swallowed hard.

"Trowa, we –"

"We'll go to Denmark. You don't have to wear the World Series ring, it was just a lead-up. I – Quatre, this isn't the adrenaline talking anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And, you know, I'm not going to change that much – I'm not going to walk down the street holding hands or anything, but I want you to know that I want to make the commitment. To you. To us. And I want to know if you want to make that commitment, too."

All the reasons why this was a bad idea flew through Quatre's mind. But instead of listing all those reasons to Trowa, he was only able to say one thing.

"Yes."

Trowa grabbed him, holding him close. He kissed him on the lips, gently, then released him.

"Well, come on then, I still need to change. I don't want to let my future-my-in-law see me looking like this."

Quatre couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Duo walked into the front office hesitantly. The last time he had been called in for a meeting with Epstein, it had been to receive a sharp reprimand for his "behavior." It was ironic, he thought, that he could get into as many fights with Heero as he wanted, but as soon as management found out he was gay – then the shit hit the fan.

The receptionist noticed him and smiled.

"He'll be right with you, Mr. Maxwell. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?"

"No, thanks, Sheila."

While he waited Duo looked around at the memorabilia that decorated the walls – the series pennants, the team photographs, the autographed baseball and bat from Ted Williams.

He swallowed hard, realizing this would be the last time he could consider himself to be a part of this history and this team.

"Mr. Maxwell, he's ready for you now."

He nodded to Sheila and mentally steeled himself as he walked into Epstein's office.

The general manager stood as Duo walked in.

"Duo, thanks for coming in today. Have a seat, will you?" Epstein gestured to the chair in front of Duo.

Sitting, he resisted to urge to fidget. Having a meeting with Epstein was a lot like having a meeting with the school principle.

"First off, I want to congratulate you on your performance this season."

"Er, thank you, sir."

"You've made great contributions to this team, and if you aren't awarded Rookie of the Year or League MVP, well, it certainly isn't because of a lack of effort on your part."

Duo sat in silence, stunned, and curious as to who this was trying to impersonate Epstein.

"And you've been a huge part of our three wins so far in the World Series. I know there are still two games left, and the outcome is far from decided, but you've worked hard to get your team where it is."

Epstein paused, considering Duo.

"You are an incredibly talented player, and you're determined to make a difference on whatever team – in whatever country – you play on."

Duo winced. Apparently Epstein had gotten wind of Dorothy's negotiations with the Tokyo Giants.

"You are a role model for future generations of ballplayers, and for Americans. You can – and do – represent something. You represent what it means to be American. You're different than most of your teammates – but you ARE a Red Sock. You were born to play for this team, Duo. It's your team. Your town. Your home."

It was a good speech, and, cynically, Duo wondered who Epstein had found to write it for him.

"Sir, I'm a little confused. A few weeks ago it was made clear to my agent that I wouldn't be welcome back with the Red Sox next season. Why are you saying this –"

"People can change, Duo. They make mistakes, and they grow from them. We – I – was wrong to treat you the way I did. People are often afraid of what is new and different, and I was… unsure of what your announcement would do to the team, and to the sport in general."

"I don't want you back because you can lead us to more championships – though I hope you can – I want you back because you represent the future and a possible direction for this team to move. I want that. I want you to lead us." Epstein withdrew something from his pocket and passed it over the table towards Duo.

A slim, red piece of fabric in the shape of the letter 'c'.

Duo swallowed hard.

"Varitek is retiring at the end of the season. The team doesn't have to have a captain, but it needs you. And I'd like you to come back and play with us next spring. And I'd like you to wear this on your uniform."

Duo fingered the 'c' with awe.

"Sir – I," Duo cleared his throat. "Sir, It's only my second season. Varitek was here for years. He earned the right to be the captain. And, to be honest, I'd like nothing more than to wear that on my uniform. But it wouldn't be right. I haven't earned it yet. If you want a captain for next year, then David Ortiz is your guy – not me." Duo shook his head. "I'm not sure what brought on this change of heart, but you are right. This is my team, this is my town. I want to stay here."

Epstein arched an eyebrow, sensing a "but."

"And I want to be part of the future – I want to lead this team in a new direction, but I need some assurances that this isn't just some pretty speech. I need to know that these changes can, and will happen."

Epstein nodded thoughtfully.

"I understand where you're coming from." He withdrew a manila envelope from his desk and passed it over to Duo.

"This is a review of the current charities and associations that the Red Sox are affiliated with as an organization." He handed over another folder. "This is the proposed list for next year. On the forth page you will find a list of benefits and events that are happen during the next year."

Duo looked over the lists.

"Wow. You, ah, really did your research."

"I'm committed to this, Duo. Not just because I want you back on the team, but because it's the right thing to do."

"Then you've got me back on the team. If this is what you want to do with the organization, then I want to know how I can help. This," Duo gestured at the folders, "is something I NEED to be part of."

Epstein smiled.

"Excellent. I'll contact your agent and she and I can work out the details of your contract." Epstein stood and extended his hand.

"Thank you, Duo. I look forward to the end of this series, and the start of next season."

"Me, too, sir."

* * *

"He's right, you know," Hilde said.

Duo looked up from the spaghetti sauce he was making.

"Huh?"

"Epstein, what he said about people changing, and learning from mistakes."

"Sure."

Hilde drew in a deep breath and walked around the counter to stand beside Duo.

"I've been thinking, Duo. About you – and Heero."

"There isn't a me and Heero anymore."

"I know. That's what I've been thinking about. I just… Heero made some mistakes. And he's a Yankee, so he's already got a lot of strikes against him. But, Duo, you can't expect him to be the one to keep running back. I know he was wrong, but you've got to meet him halfway – and sometimes you've simply got to go all the way. It's just – that's how things work. You know that. Remember when you and Solo –"

"Look, Hilde. I appreciate what you're trying to do. But this isn't like me and Solo. And maybe, maybe Heero and I were never going to work out. We're too different, plus –"

"Duo Maxwell. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

Hilde crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Doing what on purpose?"

"Pushing Heero away. You're doing it because of Solo."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You feel guilty for choosing him, don't you? And you – Duo. You aren't over him, are you?"

Unexpectedly Duo felt his throat constrict and his eyes burn.

"How can I get over him, Hil? How am I supposed to "get over" twelve years of my life? I – I just can't."

"Oh, Duo." Hilde crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Duo. After a moment he returned her embrace, holding her tightly.

"It's not that I don't care about Heero. It's just that – before, when Solo was alive, it was, well, Heero was different than Solo. Different in good AND bad ways. But now that Solo's gone, it just – how am I supposed to compare my dead lover to my living one?"

"Why are you comparing them, Duo? They're different. They have different parts of your life – and neither one is less important, or less special, because of that. You aren't going to forget Solo by being with Heero. But you aren't going to stop mourning for Solo by abandoning Heero. Soon enough you're going to have a pile of regrets at your feet. And then, and then where will you be, Duo?"

Duo swallowed hard.

"I don't know, Hil. It's hard to think about moving on."

"It's the only direction you CAN go, Duo."

"Yeah. That's the hard part."

* * *

**OCTOBER GLORY: By Quatre Winner**

_The Red Sox are once again World Series champions. It was an exciting series, lasting seven games and filled with moments of triumph and despair. The Mets put up a desperate struggle, but they couldn't pitch past the powerful Red Sox line-up, and they were twice shut out by rookie Trowa Barton._

_Looking back on this World Series it isn't the games that immediately come to mind, but the fans surrounding them. Earlier this season both Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton announced their homosexuality to the public. Since then both athletes have been under constant media scrutiny, and the various organizations they support have also come under fire._

_When the Boys and Girls Club pulled Duo Maxwell's ad there was outrage from Red Sox nation, and that, more than anything else, seemed to drive Maxwell for the rest of the season. Maxwell finished the season with twenty-four home runs, one hundred and ninety hits, fifty stolen bases, and eighty RBIs. Impressive stats for anyone – especially a rookie battling society._

_As for World Series MVP Trowa Barton he was no less the subject of debate. But Barton also managed to prove his critics wrong – anyone who assumed his homosexuality was a sign of weakness or inferiority have now been shown just how wrong their assumptions are. Barton finished the season with twenty-one victories, two-hundred strike-outs and a 1.45 ERA. During the post season his record was nearly perfect – four wins, one no-decision, and two scoreless relief appearances._

_The performance of these two athletes means that they have earned the right to brag, and to be themselves both in public and private. But these two are superstars with talent that surpasses most. What about the merely good or average athletes? Do they have to earn the right to "come out of the closet" as well?Perhaps it is time that American society gave a closer look at itself. The greatest danger we face may be our own hypocrisy._

_In three weeks this year's awards will be announced. Whether or not Duo Maxwell or Trowa Barton receive these awards will not, sadly, be based solely on merit. It will also reflect society's views on their sexuality._

_We can only hope that society has been as willing to give them a chance as Maxwell and Barton were when they told the truth._

* * *

Duo was in an airport bar when the awards were announced.

Beer at his elbow and Red Sox hat pulled low on his head, he blended in with the crowd glued to the television.

"… and now for the American League awards. The Cy Young Award goes to Red Sox pitcher Trowa Barton," Duo grinned, " and the American League MVP is awarded to Duo Maxwell, also of the Red Sox. The Rookie of the Year award goes to Yankees' catcher Heero Yuy and the Fireman of the Year award goes to Wufei Chang. For more coverage on…"

The crowd dispersed, discussing the selections and leaving Duo alone and bewildered.

He had been confident that he would be shut-out from the awards this year. The fact that Trowa had won the Cy Young –well, it would have been impossible not to award the rookie for his pitching. No one in the American League had been close to him this year.

Unlike with Heero and Duo, who had spent most of the season neck-and neck.

Duo grinned and finished off his beer.

He almost wanted to call Heero and rib him about getting Rookie of the Year.

Almost.

He paid for his drink and checked his watch. His plane would start boarding in fifteen minutes, so he decided to head towards the gate.

As he approached the terminal he heard a familiar voice, slightly anxious, arguing with the woman standing beside the gate.

"… know he's on this flight. I just need to talk to him. Just tell me whether or not he's checked in yet, that's all –"

"Is there a problem here, Alice?" Airport security had arrived and Duo decided to step in before things escalated.

"Er, Heero?"

The man spun around, eyes wide.

"Duo." He walked away from the airport employees, completely ignoring the chaos he had caused.

"Duo, don't leave."

"Wha – what?"

"Don't. Look, I read that the Tokyo Giants want you to sign with them, and I know that things have been tough on you this year. But don't. Don't run away from it. You'll regret it, every day. And you'll wish you could have been stronger – and you'll know that you made the wrong choice. There's no reason for you to leave. I – I promise, if you stay, I'll never talk to you again. I'll walk away, even though it will be the most difficult thing I've ever done, because this time – instead of when I ran away last time – it's the right thing for me to do."

Heero looked at him, blue eyes dark and sad.

Duo swallowed.

"Um, a few things. One, you never talking to me again isn't that much of an incentive to stay. Two, you aren't the only one who ran away last time. Three, I'm not sure if they taught you Yankees to read, but ah, this flight ISN'T going to Japan. It's going to Aspen. Four, I AM going, because I've rented a cabin for a month and already paid for skiing lessons. And Five, you should read tomorrow's paper. I think the front page of the Boston Globe will go something like "Duo Maxwell re-signs with the Red Sox."

"Oh. Hn."

Duo smirked.

"So, ah, sense you're already here and everything – and you just delivered a top-notch apology – want to go to Aspen for a month?"

"I guess. I'll have to trade in my ticket to Pittsburgh."

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"I had to buy a ticket to get past security."

Duo laughed.

"Right. Well, you've got something like twenty minutes until this plane leaves. Let's see what we can work out."

"I'm sure we'll manage something."

Duo looked over at him.

"Yeah," he agreed. " I think we'll manage just fine."

THE END….

* * *

A/N: Keep an eye out for my next GW fic, Big Sky. Here's a short teaser:

"Quatre, tell me again why we're spending our vacation in the middle of nowhere," Duo said from his position in the driver's seat of the rented convertible that was currently speeding along I-15 towards Great Falls, Montana.

The blonde in the driver's seat didn't bother to turn his head towards Duo.

"Because we spend our whole lives in the City and it's nice to be outdoors, away from it all. Just think – no school shootings, no fights, no angry parents or ridiculous administrators…" Quatre delivered the list in his most convincing voice.

"No cell phone reception, no email, no daily subscription to the Wall and to the Times…" Duo tried to make it sound as though he doubted Quatre could survive without those necessities. It wasn't hard. He did doubt it.

"Good. I don't want any of it right now. The next two weeks are going to be completely amazing, just wait."

"Still waiting," Duo grumbled, settling back in his seat and staring at the lush countryside rushing past.

Duo and Quatre had met in college and immediately hit it off – becoming fast friends, roommates, and even – briefly – lovers. They came from completely different backgrounds: Quatre with his multi-million dollar inheritance and huge family; Duo an orphan with little to show for himself except for what he scraped by with. They made an odd pair, but fit, somehow. After college Quatre had gone on to a Forbes-featured career as a financial wizard while Duo had gone into teaching high school history. They both lived in New York City, but their lifestyles meant that they only saw each other a few times a month. Which made their annual two-week summer vacation all the more valuable. It had been a tradition since their freshman year of school – each year they went somewhere different, alternating who picked. This year it had been Quatre's turn.

"I still don't understand why you picked here. They don't have cell phone reception – or school shootings – in Tahiti, I bet."

Quatre snorted. "Been there – trust me, Duo, you'd be bored in two seconds."

"Because I'm not already bored here."

Quatre frowned.

"Give it a chance, Duo. You might be surprised."

Duo felt slightly guilty from the disappointment in his friend's voice.

"What are we doing again?" He asked in an attempt to smooth things over.

"First we stay at a real, authentic ranch for two nights. Then we'll ride along the Missouri river and through the mountains for ten days, camping in the woods and exploring the wilderness before we return to the ranch. And then we come home."

Duo rolled his eyes at Quatre's recitation of the brochure.

"You realize I've only ever slept outside on the street, right? I don't even know how to light a fire. What about bears, or snakes, or –"

"We'll be accompanied by two experienced guides, both of whom are well-trained in survival skills and –"

"Think they took a course in that or –"

"AND familiar with the area we'll be traveling. Honestly, Duo. It'll be an adventure."

"Yeah. I think you've been spending a little too much time with your Brokeback Mountain DVD," Duo shot back.

Quatre frowned at him.

"I have not. But don't tell me you don't imagine two cowboys as our guides – totally hot – leading us through the forest. All tanned and muscled and –"

"Probably it's two lesbians who hate men."

Duo could feel Quatre's glare, even through the blonde's sunglasses.

"Duo –"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

"I went with the flow when you took us to New Orleans to rebuild houses."

"Hey! That was an awesome time, and we were helping people!"

"And we got accosted by right-wingers who threatened to kill us in our sleep for being gay."

"Yeah, that part wasn't as good – but it was a great two weeks. Remember how tan we were after? And how impressive our arm muscles were for, what, three days?"

Quatre snorted a laugh.

"Okay, look. I know. I'll try to… go with the flow. It's just… I hate nature. I'm a city boy, born and raised. I didn't have a cabin in the Finger Lakes I went to every year growing up. This is new to me."

"I know, Duo. I know. But that doesn't mean it won't be fun. Plus, we haven't gotten to spend much time together since Christmas, and I really want us to have a good time out here. We could both use a break from civilization right now, you know? And from the people we – um… from people."

Duo knew that Quatre was referring to Trant, Quatre's boyfriend of two years and Alex, Duo's on-again, off-again lover. Duo sighed.

"You're right about that. Here's to two weeks without any craziness. I hope they ARE lesbians, Quatre. You and I don't need anymore drama in our lives."

"A two week fling is not drama. Don't wish lesbians upon me, Duo Maxwell." Quatre turned off of I-15 onto a smaller, even windier road. Duo braced himself as they took the curves at nearly seventy miles an hour.

It wasn't long afterwards that they were pulling off onto a one-lane dirt road. Quatre finally slowed as they drove for fifteen minutes, alone except for the evergreens that stretched out on either side of the road.

Finally they saw a wooden archway ahead. The archway straddled the road and hanging from the center was a sign: B&B Ranch. They drove through the archway, expecting something… but the scenery was the same.

Until Quatre slammed on the breaks.

A young girl, no more than seven years old, ran out onto the road, her arms loaded with what looked like clothes. She paid the car absolutely no attention and crossed the road, disappearing onto a trail that led back into the woods.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Duo muttered, his heart still thudding.

Quatre looked pale.

"It's okay, man, she looked fine. Didn't even see the fucking car."

Quatre nodded and pressed down on the gas again, more cautiously.

"God, this place is –"

Quatre slammed on the breaks again.

Now streaking out of the woods were two men.

Two grown, tanned, well-muscled men wearing cowboy hats and boots.

And nothing else.

One of the men stopped in the road, putting a hand on the hood of the car and glaring at them with deep, exotic blue eyes.

Duo swallowed hard and fought to keep his own eyes from looking downward.

The other man was scanning the road, ignoring them completely.

"Izzy!" He shouted, voice rich and deep.

There was an echoing giggle.

"She's in the woods," the man said to the blue-eyed one.

Together they sprinted off.

Duo and Quatre shared a look.

"This is so much better than Brokeback Mountain," Quatre said as he hit the gas again.


End file.
